February Chelsie Prompt Series
by Hogwarts Duo
Summary: This is my response to a series of prompts posted on Tumblr for the Carson/Hughes pairing. Each chapter will be based on a one word prompt and will vary in length and will feature our lovely butler and housekeeper!
1. Beginning

**Beginning**

_Old habits die hard_, she thought as she opened her eyes to the darkness of the room. For decades, she had been forced to wake before the first rays of the sun appeared in the sky, forced to pull on a confining corset, eating on someone else's schedule, following a routine. She had once prided herself on the constancy of it all … the precise manner in which the household ran under her direction. She had received plenty of compliments, both from her employers and others who often visited, about the quality of everything at Downton.

Today, however, was different. As she shifted in bed, she burrowed deeper under the blankets, closer to the warmth radiating from the man in the bed next to her, the man who had pledged himself to her at Christmas with a proposal and who had finally claimed his prize, both at the altar and in their marriage bed.

A warmth infused her cheeks and a thrill ran through her body as she remembered the way they had spent their first evening as man and wife. Charles had been so loving, so attentive, so very passionate as they made love for the first time … and the second … even the third in the wee hours of the morning. Never had she felt so loved and cherished, so completely happy and truly sated.

He began to stir next to her, dragging her back from her recent memories. She smoothed a hand over his bare shoulder, the side of his neck, his chest in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep. There would be no need for rising so early, corsets, routines. As she absentmindedly ran her hands through the sparse silver hairs on his chest, he brought his hand up and captured hers, bringing it to his lips for a kiss to her palm.

"Good morning, love," he whispered in a hoarse voice.

There was something about his deep, rich timbre that sent a shock all the way to her core. "Mmmm, it is a very good morning, sweetheart," she replied, tilting her head up to capture his lips with hers.

It was a gentle kiss, much like their first one weeks ago, similar to the one they shared in front of Reverend Travis and their friends, almost identical to the first one they shared as Charles carried her across the threshold of their cottage. The main difference this time, though, was that there was no need to stop the progression of the kiss, no need to pull back, to speak of past loves or a lack thereof.

Still, Elsie pulled back from Charles and threaded her fingers through his mussed hair. "You look very handsome and happy this morning," she said, her accent very thick this particular morning.

"Must be the company I kept last night," he answered teasingly. "What do you say we try this again tomorrow morning and the morning after that … for the rest of our lives?"

"I'd say, Mr. Carson, you have simply made me an offer I cannot bear to refuse."

With no warning, he shifted so she was lying beneath him, staring up into those chocolate brown eyes that left no doubts in her mind as to what he was thinking, wanting, needing, requesting.

She draped a leg over his hip, drawing him deeper into her embrace, giving him the answers and the permission he sought but didn't really need.

"I love you, Mrs. Carson," he whispered against her lips.

"I'm happy to hear it, Charles. Now, stop talking so much and kiss me," she demanded.

They were still in bed when the sun peeked through the curtains, the downstairs clock chimed half past ten, and Charles's stomach began to grumble from lack of food causing Elsie to giggle. With a great deal of effort and several distracting kisses from her husband, Elsie finally managed to pull on her dressing gown and make her way downstairs to the kitchen.

A new day … a new life … a set of new routines … but all of them signaling the best thing of all … the beginning of their new life together … retired and so very happy.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading. I hope you'll take a moment and leave a review, too! I hope to update this daily (or every other day) with responses to the other prompts in the February Chelsie series which was posted on Tumblr.


	2. Accusation

**Accusation**

"Can you believe she's still not speaking to me properly?" Charles grumbled as he poured a glass of sherry for himself and Elsie. "I've tried everything, gone out of my way, to be civil to her. All I get in return are cold stares, grunts, and mumblings under her breath."

Elsie took the glass from Charles and waited for him to be seated. "Perhaps, she's going through a rough time. She's under quite a bit of strain with Daisy spending more and more time with her studies. Mrs. Patmore is having to do more of the work, and I believe it's wearing her down, though she'd never admit it."

"Be that as it may, Elsie, that doesn't give her the right to be rude to me or anyone else in this household. You know my feelings about Daisy's education … and yes, I am fully aware that you and Mrs. Patmore support Daisy in this. That's not the issue here."

"And what is the issue, Charles?" She took a sip of her sherry and waited for him to answer.

"I think you know and you're not saying," he countered, looking at her over the top of his glass, savoring the taste of the nightcap as it caressed his taste buds.

She placed her glass on the table and leaned in a little closer. "I don't know what you mean. Mrs. Patmore hasn't said anything to me. I have noticed that she's been a little grumpy towards you lately. Would you like me to speak to her?" Elsie clasped her hands together in her lap and looked up at Charles, trying to read his thoughts but finding it difficult.

Charles smiled and shook his head. "You don't have to speak to her, Elsie." He watched as her eyes widened and she began to worry her bottom lip nervously. That was when he knew he had her. He reached over and brushed his thumb across her lips before cupping her cheek. "You don't need to speak to Mrs. Patmore because I already have."

"What? When did you do that," she asked, her voice a little higher than normal. "What did she say?"

"Not much, though she gave me enough information to work out for myself what's been going on and why she's been so upset with me." He grinned. "I didn't tell her what I assume is the truth. I thought you might like the honors of doing that for yourself … first thing in the morning."

"Me? What do you think I know about all this? She hasn't said much to me and certainly nothing about being upset with you?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Come clean, Elsie Hughes! What was it you said to me months ago … you don't lie, but there are things you don't say? I think it's time you start talking, woman."

"Is that an accusation, Charles Carson? Are you accusing me of something?"

He closed the distance between them, quickly silencing her by capturing her lips with his for a gentle, loving kiss. When he pulled back, he rubbed his nose against hers then pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

"This is what I'm saying, love. Mrs. Patmore makes vanilla biscuits for the children once a week. She knows how many she sends upstairs for their tea time. Recently, she's noticed that her supplies are running short mid-week, and she's having to bake more. She accused me of sneaking some of them for my own tea when her back was turned. She honestly believes I've been eating the biscuits she made for the children."

"You do have a sweet tooth," Elsie added. "We all know that, Charles."

"And you know that I don't care for Beryl's vanilla biscuits. They're too bland for me. I prefer my desserts sweet and with a lot of flavor. The only people in this household who seem to like those vanilla things are the children upstairs and a lovely Scottish housekeeper."

He leaned in and kissed her again, very lightly on the lips, very teasingly. He trailed kisses from her lips to her ear before he whispered softly. "I think you've been sneaking the children extra biscuits during their tea and using me as a scapegoat."

Elsie knew that she'd been caught, and there was no alternative but to confess. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his ear. "You've caught me, Charles! I have been sneaking them when she wasn't looking, taking them to the nursery when Nanny had her tea, and we have a little treat." She pressed a kiss to his ear as if to seal the secret between them. "Are you going to tell on me?"

He smiled at her and shook his head. "This can be our little secret, but perhaps you could suggest that she simply double her dough and make more of them. I'm sure the household budget can support such a minor change, the children will be happy, you'll be happy, and me … well, as long as you're happy, then I'm very happy."

Elsie threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the lips, kissing him until they were both breathless. "I don't know how, but I'm going to find a way to make this up to you, you lovely, sweet man."

Charles chuckled and leaned in to whisper once more in Elsie's ear. "I have two words for you … Apple Charlotte."

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your lovely response to this drabble series. I hope you'll continue to find them enjoyable and worth the time it takes to leave a review!


	3. Restless

**Restless:**

She can't sleep. She's tossed and turned, plumped her pillow, kicked at the blankets, pulled them up to her neck, shifted from one side to the other, turning onto her back then her stomach. It's useless and pointless. Her mind won't let her rest. Tonight, of all nights, she should be sleeping soundly, dreaming of her wedding day. Instead, she's miserable in her bed, trying desperately to fall asleep.

When she closes her eyes, she can still feel his breath on her cheek as he kissed her goodnight, saying he would be waiting at the altar for her. She knows he means every word of it, knows, without a doubt, that he will be waiting for her, dressed in his finest.

She touches her cheek, the very spot where his lips have so gently kissed her. She lets her mind wander, though not to a memory but to the future. She begins to imagine what it will be like this time tomorrow night. What will they be doing? Will they already be sleeping after such an exhausting day? Perhaps, he'd like to stay up later … drinking wine, talking, making love.

And then it hits her like a ton of bricks. She's nervous. Even if she only admits it to herself, at least she can finally recognize the demon that's plaguing her, keeping her from sweet sleep and dreams. She's nervous that things will be awkward tomorrow night. Of course, there is bound to be some level of tension between them. They've been engaged for weeks now, and they've held each other and kissed rather passionately lately. She has to admit that those moments leave her breathless, always wanting more. Tomorrow evening, there will be no need to halt their kisses, caresses, softly spoken words of love. In less than twenty-four hours, she will pledge herself to this gentle giant of a man, this romantic soul that has stolen her heart away, and she couldn't be happier. A little less nervous … but thrilled all the same.

For some random reason, her mother's face comes unbidden to the forefront of her mind. She thinks back on those nights back on the farm when she couldn't sleep. She would try but for whatever reason, something worrying her or anticipating something exciting like a birthday or Christmas, she would be just as wound up as she is now. Her mother always sensed it, always knew when her eldest daughter was troubled. She would slip into Elsie's room with soothing words and a glass of milk.

Suddenly, her thoughts were consumed with the idea of having a glass of milk. She couldn't shake the feeling that if she only went downstairs for a glass of milk, she would be able to climb back into her bed and sleep like a newborn baby. Tossing back the covers and donning her dressing gown, she seemed to be moving on pure instinct. She hadn't really decided to go downstairs, she was simply going.

When she reached the bottom step, she heard noises coming from the kitchen. Someone else in this house was awake, and she wondered if perhaps it was Beryl Patmore. The woman had been keeping later hours and rising earlier in an attempt to fulfill her duties while giving Daisy extra time for her studies.

And then she hears it, that soft but deep voice. He's humming to himself, humming a familiar tune she's heard before only under different circumstances.

_Dashing away with a smoothing iron, she stole my heart away._

She takes a step into the kitchen, quickly and quietly, not wishing to interrupt his singing. Somehow, though, he senses her in the doorway. Her turns and smiles, holding a glass of milk and she is utterly stunned.

"How did you know? I don't understand."

"You're restless, and your mother always gave you milk to calm you," he says softly, moving closer to stand beside her. He drops a chaste kiss to her cheek, pressing the glass into her hands. He's rubbing soothing circles on her back, encouraging her to drink up so she can get back to her bed.

She takes a long drink and closes her eyes, memories and a sense of calm flooding her mind. "You're so very good to me, Charles," she says, a little tear escaping her eyes and trailing down her cheek.

He wipes it away and kisses her lips, tasting the cold milk. He pulls away after a long moment and licks his lips. "I hope you'll allow me to escort you back to your room, milady. It's getting late, you see, and I know for a fact that you have a busy day tomorrow."

She cups his cheek and offers him her warmest smile, the one she reserves only for him. "I would be honored, kind sir, but first you must answer a question for me. I fear, if you don't, all the milk in this house won't be enough to quench my restless spirit."

He loops her arm through his and heads for the doorway, switching off the light as they head back towards the staircase. "Ask your question, and I shall tell you a truth."

She stops and places the glass on the nearest stair, taking both of his hands in hers and giving them a squeeze. "How did you know I was so restless and that I'd be downstairs for the milk?"

"These walls are not thick, my dear. I've heard every move you've made this evening, all the sighs of frustration, the shifting in your bed, the beating you gave that poor feather pillow," he says with a grin. "And, I remembered some years ago, you told me about how your mother used to soothe you. If there's ever a night when a girl wishes her mother was near, surely it's the eve of her wedding … or the birth of a child … and since we're not expecting a baby …" he finishes with a shrug of his shoulders.

Suddenly, she is in his arms, holding him tightly, burying her face in his dressing gown, inhaling the scent of his shampoo and soap. "I love you so much, Charles Carson, and I am so very happy to be marrying such a kind and wonderful man."

He presses a kiss to the top of her head then resting his there as he tightens his hold on her. "I promise, here and now, to always hold your hand to keep you steady, to always stand by you in the good times and the bad, and most importantly, to always have a glass of milk at the ready. All you have to do is meet me at the altar tomorrow, take my hand, and allow me that right, that privilege."

"Only if you will afford me the same honor, my handsome butler." She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him just as the clock begins to chime the midnight hour. "Goodness," she gasps. "Midnight! You're not supposed to see me before the wedding."

He claims his kiss quickly then ushers her up the first few steps with her glass in hand. "I'll follow in a minute or two, give you time to make it back to your room."

She smiles and dashes quickly up the stairs and into her room. She sits on the edge of her bed drinking her milk until she hears his bedroom door close, hears him climbing into his bed. She puts her head against the wall and speaks softly, unsure if he can actually hear her voice through the wall. "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, my darling," is what she hears in return.

Suddenly, she's not so restless anymore.

**A/N:** Thank you, once more, for your continued support, reviews, reblogs on Tumblr, and every other form of support you've given me for this story. Also, there's fan art to go along with this story, courtesy of DameofDownstairs on Tumblr. Check out my blog (Chelsie-Carson) to see it!


	4. Snowflake

**Snowflake:**

"Elsie, it's not wise to head to the village at this time of day? Surely, you can wait until tomorrow or the day after."

She continued putting on her hat and coat, making sure to tuck her scarf securely inside her coat, protecting her chest and throat. "I won't be gone long, Charles. Besides, I let you talk me out of going yesterday and nothing happened. I'm sure today will be more of the same. I'll be home in time to prepare your tea."

He crossed the room and wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her close. "I'm not worried one bit about my tea. I'm worried about you … being out in the cold with the weather as unpredictable as it is these days."

She turned in his arms and kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you for caring so much, but honestly, it will be fine. I know the clouds look ominous, but they also looked like that yesterday and the day before, and we've yet to see the first snowfall. Call me silly, but I'm going into town to do my shopping." She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him once more. "Besides, if we're to be snowed in for any length of time, I want to make sure I have enough provisions to keep my husband well fed, happy, and warm."

Charles tightened his arms around her waist, holding her to him as he carefully contemplated his next words. "Very well. If my stubborn Scottish wife is so adamant that she goes into town today, she's left me with no alternative. I'm going with you."

"That's not necessary. I am more than capable of walking into the village and back. You don't need to get out in this cold. You're only just now recovering from that chest infection. What would Dr. Clarkson say if he knew you were planning to be out in the chilly winds?"

"I don't care what Dr. Clarkson will say. My main concern, my only concern is you, Elsie Carson." His voice turned softer, gentler. "Please, let me accompany you. You know I'll worry and pace the floors until you're back. We can maybe take tea in town and we won't even have to worry about that when we get home," he said, using his most pleading voice and staring into her blue eyes.

She could see how much this meant to him, to be the great protector, her knight in shining armor. "Very well, Charles, but you must wear warmer clothes, gloves, a scarf, and your hat."

"Yes, dear," he said before leaning down to kiss her. "Stay right here. I'll go grab my things and be back in a moment."

True to his word, Charles returned in no time at all, dressed warmly and meeting with Elsie's approval. Arm in arm they strolled to the village, Elsie taking in the beauty of the scenery and the sense of happiness and pride she always felt when she was close to her husband and Charles keeping an ever mindful eye on the clouds overhead.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" she teased, bumping his hip with hers.

"You said you wanted to get some fresh bread and we could have it with a stew tomorrow night," he said rather proudly.

Elsie couldn't help but laugh. "Charles Carson, I said that five minutes ago. When you didn't answer me, I went on to tell you we are expecting a baby, then I changed it to twins, but what's most miraculous was when I told you the King and Queen would be taking supper with his tomorrow night, you never even flinched. What's got you so preoccupied?"

Charles scoffed, unsure if she was teasing him or if she'd really tried all those things to gain his attention. "I'm sure I would have heard all of that had I not been so concerned for your safety. See those clouds rolling in from the north? The darker grey ones … they look heavy. There's snow in those clouds and we'd best hurry along."

"You and your snow, darling! What exactly do you think will happen if it snows? It won't be the first time we've seen it in Yorkshire and probably not the last time we'll even see it this winter."

Charles stopped walking and removed his glove so he could press his warm hand to her cold cheek. "It's our first snow as a married couple. I'd rather hoped, seems silly to even say it now, but I'd rather hoped we could spend it curled up on our sofa, a blanket draped across us, a fire in the fireplace. It seemed quite romantic when I was imagining it in my mind," he admitted softly, his cheeks turning a little redder, though from the wind or a blush, she couldn't tell.

Finally, Elsie understood. It wasn't that he was truly worried about her making it to the village and back safely, though that was always a concern because he loved her so much. It wasn't that he sensed a blizzard on the horizon. It wasn't even that he felt they could do without the grocery items she wanted to purchase. This was all about making a daydream into a reality, of spending a lazy afternoon curled up together and watching the snow falling past the window.

Without any warning, Elsie stood on her tiptoes and kissed her husband soundly on the lips, leaving them both a little breathless. "I bet if we hurry, we can take our tea in the village and still make it home in time for that fire and a cuddle … with our without the snow."

Charles's eyes lit up with happiness and excitement. "I love you, Elsie Carson. Thank you."

She laughed and looped her arm though his again. "Whatever are you thanking me for? You're buying the tea!"

After an enjoyable outing to the village, Charles and Elsie returned, at a more leisurely pace, to the cottage they called their home. He was just about to unlock the door when he felt a sudden stillness in the air. It was as if everything on earth was holding its breath, pausing and waiting for one miraculous thing. And then, he saw it … a single white snowflake fluttering down to the ground from the heavens. But, its path was stopped before it reached its destination. Instead of landing on the ground, it landed delicately on the tip of Elsie's nose.

Charles leaned forward and kissed the snowflake away as Elsie smiled.

"You get the fire going while I take care of putting these things away. While the room is heating up, we can dash upstairs to change into our nightclothes before we settle down for a cuddle."

"I can't think of a more perfect way to end this day than having my wife in my arms while we watch it snow."

"And if we're lucky, we won't have to venture outside for a day or two. I hope you've had time to think of a few things we might do to occupy our time."

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and grinned cheekily. "Oh, I have a few ideas, Mrs. Carson, quite a few, indeed."

A/N: Two updates in one day. O.o If you haven't read Restless, please consider taking a minute to read that chapter, too. Thanks!


	5. Haze

**Haze:**

He wasn't sure how he'd let her talk him into this crazy adventure, but somehow he had. It wasn't that he minded the preparations or the walking involved. He didn't mind doing anything and everything to see her smile, to watch her eyes sparkle with merriment and laughter as they enjoyed their days and nights together. He didn't even care that he was missing an opportunity to watch the local lads play a game of cricket. No, what he despised about this entire affair was the heat.

It was the middle of summer, and there had been an oppressive sun holding court during the day and not enough of the cooling breezes in the evenings. Of course, he didn't really mind the warmth during the evenings. He and Elsie slept nude under a thin sheet, something he never thought he would feel comfortable doing. Elsie had climbed into bed that first warm evening, and after tossing and turning for an hour, she startled him by growling a Gaelic curse before tugging the nightgown from her body and tossing it haphazardly on the floor. He'd questioned her a little, though careful not to anger or frustrate her further, and she'd eventually convinced him that it was cooler, better for their sleep, and slightly alluring to think of always sleeping in the nude. From that moment, he hadn't looked back.

But this afternoon, Elsie had approached Charles as he sat on the swing in their little flower garden. She'd looked so very pretty in her pale blue dress, her hair loosely pinned at the back of her head, her cheeks a rosy pink from the heat. She offered him a glass of lemonade and sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched the birds and the bees enjoying the flowers they'd planted in the Spring.

"Charles, let's go down by the lake and take a picnic," she'd suggested innocently.

"A picnic? In this heat? Are you sure you're feeling well?" He hadn't meant to sound harsh. She had simply surprised him with her request.

"Yes, a picnic. I know it's hot but we could paddle in the water, eat our supper, and enjoy the sunset. Please, love? You won't have to lift a finger. I can get everything together and we can leave later this afternoon." Her excitement was mounting and he could feel his resolve slipping.

"Well, I was planning to walk to the village later. The boys invited me to watch their cricket game, give them some tips on ways to improve," he said as though he was weighing his options. But, one look into Elsie's face was all it took. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Of course, there will be other practice games, and it's not every day a beautiful woman asks me to go paddling … not at my age," he teased.

She threw her arms around him, sloshing her lemonade onto his shirt and pants. Suddenly, she froze, unsure of how Charles would react. When he burst into laughter, she couldn't contain her happiness any longer. "Well, you were going to put on something different anyway," she laughed.

And that was how Charles Carson found himself escorting his wife to the lake for an evening picnic.

When they arrived, Elsie spread out a blanket and Charles took great care in unpacking their sandwiches, fresh fruit, and lemonade. He looked up to ask if she'd remembered to bring him a slice of the cake she'd baked the day before when his voice stalled in his throat.

Standing before him in bare feet, her hair flowing freely down her back, and her light dress swaying gently in the warm breeze was his beautiful wife. Her head was thrown back and she seemed to be drinking in the combination of the sun and heat, the sound of the water and the soft breeze. She seemed utterly content, radiating happiness, and he found he couldn't possibly love her more than he did in that moment.

Afraid to break the spell, he moved quietly behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her flush against his broad chest, his lips grazing the side of her neck. "You are so beautiful," he whispered into her ear. "I'm such a lucky man." He nipped at her earlobe which earned him a satisfied smile from her lips.

She turned in his arms and leaned against him. "I'm the lucky one. I have a handsome husband who loves me and desires me." She kissed him softly, letting the passion build between them slowly. She wasn't sure who made the first move, but Elsie was suddenly being eased back onto the blanket, her husband hovering over her, kissing her, silently asking for permission to show her his love.

So there, on a summer day, the sky filled with a warm haze, Charles made love to his wife, his Elsie, his other half. He hadn't worried about propriety, or exposure. His only thoughts were on pleasuring his wife, chasing the rush of sensations and euphoria that always surrounded them during intimate moments.

Snuggled together, their picnic items still untouched, Charles and Elsie enjoyed the last the sun's rays. Looking to their right, there were light ripples on the water, creating a gentle mood, a lulling melody to close out the end of the day. To the right, the sun was setting, burning off the last of the stifling haze, painting the sky in a brilliant shade of gold and touching everything in its path.

Between the two worlds … the hazy day and the peaceful waters … Charles and Elsie relaxed, waiting to see what the moon and her stars had to offer as an ending to their blissful day.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for your overwhelming response to these drabbles. It warms my heart and makes me smile to know you're enjoying them!


	6. Flame

**Flame:**

He'd already been awake for hours, though he'd only been out of bed for the last thirty minutes. When he woke, he started thinking of all the things he wanted to do for her today, her special day. It was the first birthday she would spend being a lady of leisure, having nothing to do but sit back and let him pamper her … if she would allow it. She never made a fuss on her birthday, never asked for a special meal or a cake, never once mentioned it in casual conversation. Fortunately, Charles Carson and Beryl Patmore remembered the date and always did little things to make her feel special.

Today, however, was different. They were married, retired, and hadn't a care in the world. He'd been toying with several ideas but had only truly settled on one … this one. He wanted to let her sleep until he had her breakfast prepared, then he would surprise her by bringing breakfast up to her … like the ladies maids at Downton Abbey would do for their mistresses. He was fairly certain no one had ever done this for her … unless of course she'd been too sick or weak to make it down the flights of stairs.

So, here he was in their kitchen getting everything ready to start preparing their breakfast. Charles was, by no means, an accomplished cook, but he did possess the basic skills necessary to cook a full English breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, sausages, and, of course, tea and toast. He surveyed all the ingredients on the counter, took a deep breath, and went to work.

The bacon and sausages proved no problem for Charles. He felt rather confidant that he'd managed to fry them perfectly, just like Elsie liked. Standing proudly over the plate, he inhaled deeply and puffed out his chest. Yes, they even smelled perfectly delicious. Next, he began to work on the mushrooms and the tomatoes. Tossing the mushroom in the pan with some seasoning and butter wasn't any challenge at all, he thought to himself. Any child could prepare these as long as they were careful of the stove and the pan. The grilled tomatoes were a little more difficult. They had to be just perfect. Cook them too long and they'd be crispy and hard. Cook them too little and the insides would be mushy, something he knew Elsie detested.

Three attempts and four wasted tomatoes later, Charles was finally satisfied and moved on to the eggs. He'd been holding off on preparing those. His wife was rather particular when it came to her eggs. It had taken Mrs. Patmore almost a month to get the eggs suitable for his wife's delicate palate. It had caused many rows in the beginning. Mrs. Patmore couldn't understand why the uppity Scottish housekeeper was turning her nose up at the eggs and Mrs. Hughes, now his Mrs. Carson, couldn't grasp how a cook in such a prestigious house could ruin a basic egg. As he held two eggs in his hand, Charles let his mind drift back to those first few months of Elsie's time at Downton, in particular the resolution to the "great egg crisis" as he'd so aptly named it back then.

It had been a typical morning, nothing unusual about the day, no guests in the house, no undue pressure to cook extra food, special meals … just a regular day at Downton serving the family he loved so much. He'd been in his office enjoying his morning cup of tea and going over a few invoices from the wine distributors when he heard Mrs. Patmore's raised voice, the jangling of Elsie's keys, and the words "bloody eggs" repeated in harsh tones. It was then that he decided he needed to intervene, if only for the sanity of the downstairs staff and the voices of both women.

"Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore … this debate has gone on long enough and it ends today … now!" Charles pulled himself up to his full height and stared at both women, fully aware that he was skating on thin ice with heated blades. Still, something had to be done and this was the only way. "Instead of arguing over the correct way to cook an egg, why don't you each take a pan, an egg, and actually show the other person what you want. Surely, with two skilled women such as yourselves, you should be able to move past this one small matter."

To this day, he could still feel the heated glares he received from both women that morning. Now, he stood in his own kitchen, staring at the eggs in his hand, and worrying that he finally understood Mrs. Patmore's dilemma. His lovely wife would never complain about the food he cooked for her, but since it was her birthday, he wanted it to be perfect for her.

Taking the pan and warming it on the eye of the stove, he added a small pat of butter and began the delicate task. The first eggs, he decided, were too hard. Elsie didn't care for the edges to be crispy, just lightly browned. No harm done, though, he thought since he could eat those. His second attempt for perfect eggs wasn't much better. He'd made the mistake of shifting the eggs in the pan too soon and they had broken apart and mingled together, basically creating a scrambled mess. The outside cats would certainly benefit from his second disaster. Finally, after taking a deep breath and concentrating very hard, Charles Carson produced the perfect eggs for his birthday girl. He felt most proud and pleased with himself, hoping she would appreciate his efforts.

Tea and toast … that was all that was left on his list. He filled the kettle with the water and set it to boil while he dashed outside for only a moment. After giving the scrambled eggs to the eager cats, he clipped a few of the flowers growing in their garden, intent on adding them to her breakfast tray as a little added flair. _Yes, this breakfast was coming along nicely_, he thought, giving himself a pat on the back.

Once back inside, Charles stared at the loaf of bread. Toast! Why couldn't his wife enjoy a lovely piece of bread with a just a little slathering of butter? Why did she have to enjoy her crispy, tanned toast so much? Granted, he had never been one to turn down a piece of perfectly browned bread, but he wasn't quite as enamored of the stuff as Elsie. He cast a disapproving eye towards the contraption she'd brought with her from the house … the dreaded toaster. She made it look so easy to simply slide the bread in and wait until the perfect moment to remove it, presenting him with a beautiful slice of toast.

After several moment of indecision … should he use her toaster or should he simply warm the oven and make the toast the old fashioned way … he decided that he would not be bested by an electrical appliance! If Elsie could embrace the thing and it if it could make her toast in half the time it would take to heat up the oven, what could be so bad about it?

After several deep breaths and a very serious pep talk about using the blasted thing, Charles placed the bread in the toaster, plugged it into the wall, and began plating the food. He was nearly finished and was working on the tea when he heard Elsie's familiar footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Mmmm, you've been busy this morning," she said with a large smile tugging at her lips. She stepped into his arms and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Everything smells so delicious … a full fry up this morning. Hmm, must be my birthday or else you're extra hungry after that very remarkable workout last night," she teased, pinching his bottom playfully.

Charles tightened his arms around her and lifted her off the floor while kissing her hard on the lips. "Happy Birthday, love. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it seems I was a little slower than I thought in getting everything ready." He eased her feet back to the floor and cupped her cheek with his warm hand. "Today is all about you … whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go … name it and we'll make sure that it happens. I want you to really enjoy your birthday, so no arguments. Let me spoil you."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, both eyes, her jaw, and then began a trail down her neck. He was just about to slide her dressing down aside so he could bathe her shoulder in kisses when a loud popping noise coming from the counter made them both jump apart.

Looking back, Charles was horrified! The toaster … Elsie's beloved appliance purchased with her own money … was in flames! Well, to be more precise, the bread inside the toaster was in flames … large flames which were shooting from the top and sides of the machine in every direction, burning black as a piece of coal, thick smoke beginning to fill the house. Moving Elsie quickly out of the way, Charles ran to the toaster and pulled the cord from the wall, then knocked the offending appliance into the nearby sink, causing the toast to sizzle as it released a horrid smell into the house.

After the initial crisis was dealt with, Charles leaned against the skin, shoulders slumped and his head bowed low as he stared at the blackened bit of bread and the ruined toaster. He stiffened slightly when he felt Elsie's hand on his back, offering him comfort and soothing sentiments without ever uttering a word.

"I'm sorry about your toaster and the toast for our breakfast," he said sadly. "I thought I could work this damned contraption, but apparently, I was wrong."

Elsie turned him away from the sink and rested her palms on his chest. "You have nothing to be sorry about, love. You made this wonderful breakfast for me, even cut flowers from our garden, and was planning to treat me like a proper lady today. I couldn't ask for more … toast or no toast … I love you and am so thankful I have such a thoughtful, loving husband who wants to spoil me."

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "I did try extra hard to get the eggs just right," he said with a light chuckle. He guided her to their table and pulled out her chair before presenting her with the carefully prepared food.

After settling down with his own plate and cup of tea, Charles reached across the table and took her hand in his. "So, what would you like to do today? Anything at all."

Elsie bit her bottom lip to stifle the giggle that was threatening to overtake her. "Well, I just had an idea, though I'm not sure you'll be too keen on it. It's something that's really just popped into my head."

Charles sat up a little straighter in his chair, eager to hear her request. His wife never asked for anything to the chance to actually present her with something she wanted was an opportunity he wasn't going to miss. "I said it before … anything … just name it."

"If … if you're sure … "she said, dragging out the moment. He nodded his head excitedly, his eyes wide in anticipation. "Well, when Mrs. Patmore and I were in Ripon the other day, I saw this lovely … no, it's probably too expensive, and I certainly don't need it."

"Elsie, you let me be the judge of what's expensive and not. After all, it's your birthday. I do have you a present already wrapped, but I'd like to buy you something else, if that's what you'd like."

"Only if you're sure," she added, waiting to see his reaction. When she was sure she had him hooked, she grinned and gave him a wink. "The General Store in Ripon just got in this new shipment … of … electric toasters … on this one has a proper dial and when the toast is ready, it automatically pops the bread out … no more burnt toast!"

Charles stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide if she was pulling his leg or being completely serious. Seeing that she meant every word and was having a bit of fun at his expense, he burst into laughter. "I'll buy it only on one condition."

"Name your terms, Mr. Carson!"

"You must teach me how to properly use the blasted thing. I don't want next years birthday breakfast going up in flames!"

"Mr. Carson … you have a deal. Perhaps tonight, we might enjoy a little midnight snack of toast and jam. I have a feeling we'll be working up quite the appetite today."

**A/N:** Thank you for all the likes, reblogs on Tumblr, reviews, emails, and support. You guys are wonderful! Also, make sure to hop over to my tumblr (Chelsie-Carson) and check out the artwork that goes with the story! Wink wink


	7. Formal

**Formal:**

Charles slipped into Elsie's sitting room with the decanter of wine and two glasses, along with a little flower he'd managed to take from one of the upstairs bouquets as he was locking up the house.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your work, Elsie," he said, placing the small tray on the side table by the door then crossing the room to place a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Interruptions are always welcome when it's you, dear," she teased, flashing him a warm smile. "And you brought me a flower! How very thoughtful, and it's so pretty. I'll take it with me when we head upstairs so I can see it and be reminded of you when I wake up in the morning."

Charles blushed lightly, wondering if she thought of him when she was falling asleep at night or when she first woke in the morning. Goodness knows that she was the first thought he had in the morning, the last one at night. She filled his dreams, even more so since Christmas Eve when he'd finally plucked up the courage to propose. "I think of you," he admitted almost shyly, unsure of why he had even admitted such a thing to her. Seeing the smile on her face, however, wiped away all anxiety from his mind. He lowered his voice a little, making it a soft, deep melody which caressed her ears. "You are the bright spot in each of my days."

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into his warm embrace and resting her cheek on his chest. "I am glad to hear it." She took a deep breath, reveling in the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his arms, his solid heartbeat beneath her ear. "I think that's the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me, and I'm so happy it was my future husband that said it." She tilted her head up and looked into his face as she caressed his cheek with her fingertips.

He closed his eyes and let himself be carried away by her touch and the feel of her warm body pressed against his. His mind began to drift into the future, thinking of how they might wake together on their first morning, how her fingertips would feel gliding over his chest, his back … other parts of him. Thoughts of sharing a marriage bed with her began to flood his mind, causing his body to react in ways that were natural but still slightly embarrassing to him … at least until they were properly wed. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and cleared his throat.

"What's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?" she asked, her voice soft and alluring, though tinged with concern.

"Not at all, love. I … umm, that is we … let's just say, Mrs. Hughes, that I let my mind stray a bit too far and I did not wish to … that is to say … I should be able to control myself." He suddenly focused his eyes on the tips of her shoes, finding them very interesting.

Elsie suddenly understood his sudden mood shift and she bit her bottom lip to reign in the fit of laughter that was threatening to overpower her. "Mr. Carson, I assure you that you have no need to worry. I'm flattered that you find me … interesting … and …"

"I don't just find you interesting, as you put it. I find you very enticing, exciting, infuriating, and opinionated," he said with a gleam in his eyes. "There are so many other words I could use to describe you and none of them would ever truly capture the nature of your personality, your kindness, or the depths of your love."

Elsie was completely surprised by the sentiments behind his words, and it warmed her heart. She wondered what Charles would be like if he were to truly let himself go, let his mind wander so he could speak freely. Sometimes, he was too formal for his own good.

Taking his hand, she led him over to the settee and settled down beside him, leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Charles, would you indulge me for a little while this evening," she asked, hoping he wouldn't be offended by her suggestion.

"If it is possible, I would gladly indulge you in anything."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek quickly. "I know this may sound a bit odd, but I'd like us to close our eyes and just speak freely to one another. Let's not worry about propriety or being formal with one another. I'd like us to speak freely from the heart, no constraints, no worries, just speaking as if we were in our own little cottage on any given evening. Please?"

Charles cleared his throat, feeling a little uneasy about her suggestion. It wasn't something he was going to find easy, but for her, he would try anything. "Would you like to go first," he suggested, hoping to get a better understanding of what she wanted by listening to her.

She wrapped her arms around his and hugged him tightly to her. "First, close your eyes, and I'll close mine. It might make things easier to say and to be heard." When they were both settled, she began.

"For the past few years, I've woken up every morning and my first thought is of you. I wonder if you've slept well, how you're feeling, is that little curl hanging dangerously low on your forehead. I wonder if your voice is guff in the mornings, what it would sound like as you whisper a good morning into my ear." She gave his arm a little squeeze and shifted so she was pressed more fully against his side. "I feel you sitting here with me, and I never want to move. You're so solid and warm, so powerful and yet you have one of the gentlest souls I've ever encountered."

She slipped her hand down to his and laced their fingers together. "You have strong hands, though I know that on our wedding night, when these same hands touch me, there will only be love and tenderness. You will take great care of me, and you will cherish me as no other man has been allowed to do. These hands will learn every part of me, and will no doubt make me feel so very much alive." Elsie could feel herself getting carried away so she stopped speaking for a moment then stretched up to press her lips to the corner of Charles's mouth, earning her a hum of approval.

Charles opened his eyes and looked down into her upturned face. "That was beautiful, Elsie, so very eloquent and heartfelt. No one has ever said such things about me before."

"It's how I see you, Charles. It's how I've always seen you. The only difference is that now, we're allowed to drop the formalities, lose all those stiff and stifling words, and speak openly and honestly with each other. I don't want to live in a formal house with formal rules and formal titles. I want to live in our little cottage where I can kiss you any time of the day, run my hands over your chest or down your back, curl up next to you in our bed or on our sofa. I want our home filled with laughter and happiness, not rules and traditions."

Charles suddenly turned on the settee, somewhat startling Elsie, leading her to believe she had well and truly overstepped the mark. She was about to offer up an apology when suddenly his lips were sliding across hers, his hands were on her back, holding her tightly. Never before had he kissed her with such passion and intensity, leaving them both excited and breathless. When he pulled back, he guided her head to his chest as his arms folded around her small frame.

His voice was soft and tender as he started to speak. "Formality and rules have guided my life for so long, Elsie. I hope you will grant this "old booby" a little time to adjust to our new life together, though I've no doubts that you will. You've been granting me time for years now." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head then rested his cheek there. "I find myself wondering how your hair will feel as I thread my fingers through it. Do you talk in your sleep, maybe snore a little? Are your feet cold and will you allow me to warm them for you every night? Will you want to sleep curled up next to me or will you want your own space on the other side of the bed? On Sundays, would you allow us to skip church once in a while or would it be improper if we didn't attend?"

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing. "Most of all, though, I wonder what you'll think of me. Will you regret marrying me? Will I be able to make you happy … in every way that a husband should? Am I little too heavy and should lose a stone or two? Will I be the man you deserve?"

Elsie raised her hand to his lips to silence him. "You will be the only man I will ever want, Charles Carson. I don't know about deserving you, but I will thank God every day for you, for giving us all this time to get to know one another and to heal our past wounds before guiding us together. When I walk down that aisle, I'm going to be leaving my old life behind me and embarking on a grand new adventure with a man who makes me happier than I've ever been. I hope, and pray, you can say the same about me."

"Elsie Hughes … I can promise you, here and now, that the man you know as Carson will, for the most part, remain at Downton. Some of his idiosyncrasies will always be there but the rule books will be left behind. Together, we will put away the formalities and start a new life together … one where evenings like this are the norm and not the exception," he said, his tone filled with hope and promise.

"Then, Mr. Carson … Charles … let's toast to our new life together."

"I thought you'd never ask, Elsie."

**A/N:** You guys have been wonderful about reading and reviewing the story. Thank you so much for your encouragement and support. I hope you're having as much fun reading these and I am in writing them! And hop over to my tumblr to see DameofDownstairs fabulous artwork for this chapter!


	8. Companion

**Companion**

"Elsie, love, I need to run a few errands in town this afternoon," he had announced over their toast, eggs, and tea. "Is there anything you'd like me to get for you while I'm out?"

Elsie dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, giving herself a moment to think. "Well, you mentioned that you'd like me to make you a beef stew for Sunday supper. If that's still the case, I'd appreciate it if you'd pick up a few carrots for me at the grocer. I have everything else." She took his empty plate and stacked it on top of hers, intent on taking it to the kitchen to start the washing up. "Do you want me to come with you into town? I don't have a reason to go, but I could keep you company."

"That's not necessary, sweetheart. I am going to the post office to buy some stamps. You did say you were running low, and I know you wanted to send a few to Becky. After that, I was going to meet with a few of the men at the pub to discuss the cricket team. They asked for my help in organizing it … and well, you know I couldn't say no."

She rolled her eyes and grinned. "No, I dare say that wasn't an option for Charles Carson! Never pass up an opportunity to discuss cricket, watch cricket, play cricket, organize the cricket match … shall I continue?"

"No, you've made your point. If you'd rather I didn't meet with them, I'll understand. I should have mentioned it earlier. I'm sorry. I'll go get the carrots and come home. I'm sure there are things around the cottage that need tending to."

Elsie placed the plates back on the table, and without any warning, she slipped into Charles's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the lips. She kept the kiss light and teasing, just enough to leave him wanting more, reminding him what he was leaving at home. When she pulled back, she grinned at the soppy expression on his face. "Go spend time with your friends, Charles. I will be here when you get back. I'll not have the village gossips talking about how I won't let you out of my sight or out of the house for time with the lads." She rubbed her nose against his and threaded her fingers through his well combed hair, mussing it up enough so that he looked like he'd just been roused from bed. "Just don't be gone too long. I thought we might take a long walk tonight after dinner … or maybe a long bath instead," she purred sliding off his lap and walking towards the kitchen, an extra sway to her hips.

Now, it was growing late in the afternoon and Charles still wasn't home. He'd left shortly after breakfast, after helping with the dishes and promising to be home sooner rather than later. It wasn't like him to stay gone so long. Then again, it had been ages since he'd spent any great amount of time away from the house, with his friends. She really didn't want to seem like the worried wife. She trusted Charles and knew he wasn't prone to drinking to excess, loose women … or anyone other than his wife … or any of the other troubles that sometimes caused problems in a marriage. He was a true gentleman, in every sense of the word, and she trusted him completely.

Still, it wasn't like him to stay gone so long. Then again, maybe she'd spent too much time in the house. Her chores had been completed hours ago. There wasn't much to tend to anyway. With it being only the two of them, things were always tidied away at the end of the day, sheets were washed and dried once a week, the bathroom was cleaned on Fridays. And her stew had been prepared … except for the missing carrots. As worry began to settle in her heart, thinking of all the things that could have happened to him on his way home, Elsie decided to go walk towards the village in the hopes of running into him. Surely, there was a logical explanation.

Halfway to the village, Elsie rounded the corner in the path and stopped dead in her tracks. There, lying face down was Charles. Her heart stopped beating for a moment before her instincts kicked in. She called out his name and broke into a run, her hat flying off in the process. When she reached his side, she dropped to her knees, grabbing his shoulders and trying to turn him onto his side.

"Elsie, what in the name … what are you doing?" he asked abruptly, clearly startled by her sudden appearance and the way she was frantically checking him over for injuries.

Seeing that he wasn't wounded or in any real danger, she swatted his chest rather hard. "What do you mean … what am I doing? I'm not the one stretched out in the middle of the pathway, who didn't answer his wife when she called him, and who is hours later than she expected him to be home. Carrots and cricket, you said … maybe a pint or two! Do you have any idea how worried I've been about you, thinking the worst had happened or that you were having such a good time with them that you'd forgotten about me at home waiting for you?"

By the time Elsie had finished her tirade, hot, angry tears were streaming down her face. She was relieved, overjoyed even, that he was unharmed, but he had been gone all day and she had been worried.

Charles quickly gathered Elsie into his arms, letting her work through her emotions, remaining silent for fear of upsetting her further. When she calmed down, he took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I am truly very sorry. I started home two hours ago but …"

"Two hours? You've been in this road for two hours? Are you sure you're not hurt? Your ankles?"

He shook his head and kissed her cheek. "No, I'm perfectly fine, but … well, I was coming home with a little more in the basket than just the carrots," he admitted, having the good sense to look a little hesitant.

Elsie's eyes narrowed as she looked from Charles to the basket they used for simple grocery runs. "What, exactly, is keeping my carrots company in that basket, Charles Carson?"

He grinned, feeling that they were back on friendly grounds. "Take a peek, but mind you, don't open the lid all the way. It took me a good half hour to catch that one and before you scared the living daylights out of us all, I nearly had it's companion, here."

Elsie crawled over to the basket and listened carefully. Inside, she heard the soft mewing of a little kitten and her eyes widened. They had been talking for months about getting a little dog or cat for the house, something to take care of, to keep them company, a constant companion for them at the cottage. Gently, she eased the lid and saw the prettiest fluffy kitten with sparkling blue eyes. "Charles, it's so tiny and so beautiful," she exclaimed, reaching her hand inside to let the little one sniff her fingers. "And you say there's another one?"

Without any warning, Elsie was on her stomach and looking into the brush where Charles had been focusing his attention earlier. "Yes, dear. There's another one in there somewhere. I was trying to gain its' trust before you startled us all," he teased. "Maybe you'll have more luck in coaxing it out if I take the basket with the other kitten over here and we let you have a go."

She nodded and waited until he was a little bit away from her before speaking softly to the frightened little ball of fur. It broke her heart to see the tiny thing so scared and unsure, wondering what had happened to its litter mate. "I won't hurt you, wee lamb. I promise. We only want to take you home and keep you warm, fed, and loved. Come on, little one … that's it … just a little … almost there … I won't hurt you … smell the food on my fingers … more where that came from … come on … ahhhh, there we are," she finally announced, grabbing the scared kitten by the scruff of the neck and drawing it into her arms.

"Charles, I have it. I have the other kitten," she cried out, motioning for him to hurry over with the basket. Gently, she placed the second kitten inside with his sibling and watched as they settled down. "What now?" Elsie asked, looking up with hopeful eyes to her husband.

"We keep them, that's what," he announced, as if any other option would do. "I saw them scurry into the bushes as I was walking home and they just looked too little to be on their own. I was going to surprise you, my way of apologizing for spending the morning with the lads at the pub instead of home with you. I suppose the cat is in the basket now," he laughed, chuckling at his own joke.

"We're keeping both of them? Really?" She asked, already peppering his face with kisses and hugging him tightly.

"That was the plan. It will give us both a little companion … one for you to spoil and one for me to spoil. What do you think?"

"I think I am married to the most amazing man in the world."

"Forgiven, then?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her and starting down the path towards their cottage with a basket of carrots and kittens.

"More than forgiven, Mr. Carson. You'd better eat a hearty dinner tonight, sir. You're going to need that extra energy."

He waggled his eyebrows and gave her a naughty pinch to her bottom. "Is that a fact, Mrs. Carson? And what, pray tell, do you think I'll need all that energy for?"

Elsie, knowing where his mind had already gone, thought she'd tease him a little, too. "Making a bed for the kittens, finding them bowls to use for their food, they'll need sand and a box for their indoor bathroom … and that's just for starters."

Charles's face fell as she began the list of chores, thinking that his romantic evening might be a thing of the past.

"And then … of course … there's that long bath we talked about this morning," she said rather sweetly. "And I'm sure I'll think of some way of saying thank you for the two precious little bundles in the basket. Maybe two ways since you're bringing us home two little companions to share our life, home, and love."

And in that moment, Charles decided that this was one of the best days of his life.

**A/N:** Hope you're still having as much fun reading these as I'm having writing them. Drop me a line and let me know ... please!


	9. Move

**Move:**

It was time. He knew, in his heart and soul, the moment had finally arrived. He had no misgivings or second thoughts about it. He simply woke up this particular morning and knew it had to be done. There was no great epiphany, no startling moment of clarity, no motivating forces beyond those in his own mind and heart. No, he simply knew that today was the day.

To be honest, it wasn't that he had given the matter a great deal of thought. In fact, most days he stayed too busy during the waking hours to think of very much other than the next meal to be served, the wine which needed decanting in order to breathe properly, the invoices which needed paying, or the quiet moments he would share at the end of the day with his beloved, his Mrs. Hughes, his Elsie.

He smiled as he thought of her. He wondered what she might say to him when she learned of the move. He wondered if she would even notice, if she would find it peculiar that he hadn't made the transition before now. To his defense, should he actually need a line of defense, he could answer honestly. It hadn't occurred to him because she occupied most of his free time, the times when he wasn't engaged with the family or preparing for an event at the house.

Regardless of when the move occurred, he hoped it would please Elsie once she learned of it. He hadn't quite worked out a way to broach the subject with her, but it was definitely something he wanted to discuss. It was something he wanted her to know, to understand, and to embrace. She would say it didn't matter, it was unnecessary, it was in the past. But that was the point. He wanted to put it in the past, to move forward, to bring new and wonderful things into his life … their new life. He wanted this as much for them as he did for himself.

Like so many evenings before, Charles asked Elsie to join him in a glass of wine to end their tiresome day. They had each been working exceptionally hard to ensure the garden party the following week went off without any problems. Years of working together almost guaranteed them a successful outing, but they were both too committed to excellence to let the standards lapse. It also didn't hurt that they had both agreed this would be their last year working for the Crawleys, meaning this would be their final garden party. They wanted to go out with "style and show" as Elsie had said, teasing him with his own words from years before.

Charles was just going over the wine inventory for the party when he heard her familiar knock on his pantry door. With a smile on his face, he closed the book and stood to greet the woman who had captured his heart. "Hello, love," he said softly, walking around his desk to greet her. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek and guided her to the most comfortable chair in the room. "I feel like I haven't seen much of you today at all," he admitted softly, handing her a glass of wine before drawing his chair next to hers and taking a seat. "I've missed you."

She smiled and patted his arm. "We've both been busy today," she reminded him, "though we did see each other at meals. I looked for you at tea time. I was hoping we could have a few quiet minutes this afternoon, but Thomas said you were upstairs discussing a few special orders for His Lordship." Elsie laughed lightly. "I don't think Thomas was none too pleased to be sent back downstairs so that you could oversee the orders and changes."

Charles smirked and took a long sip of his wine. "I dare say he wasn't. He's been trying for weeks, now, to persuade me to let him take over the wine cellar, and I simply won't allow it. Not with his past indiscretions." He placed his glass on the table and reached over to take Elsie's hand in his simply because she was there and he could. "His Lordship and I have discussed doing a complete inventory of the cellar before you and I retire. I want him to know exactly what he has and how many cases of each selection, and I've said I would come back and oversee the purchasing next summer to ensure he gets the best of the best. I hope you don't mind," he added hastily.

"Heavens, no, I won't mind. I think it makes perfect sense to have such an experienced butler offering sage advice to the new man during his first buying season. And to be truthful, I told Her Ladyship I would help Miss Baxter with the garden party arrangements next year."

Charles shook his head and grinned. "I thought we were going to retire, love. What happened to spending our days in our own garden, or by the fire, even travelling to see Becky and the seaside?"

Elsie placed her glass on the side table nearest her then reached across to cup Charles's cheek. "We will, Mr. Carson. We will do all those things and so much more. But, we will also help our friends, visit the family and the Abbey often, and we will find new and exciting things to occupy our time. We will be able to make our own choices, decide our own timelines."

Charles closed the distance between them and kissed her lightly on the lips. "You're very right, Mrs. Hughes, as always," he finished with a smile. "You always know the perfect thing to say."

"Years of practice," she teased. "You've managed to keep me on my …." She paused in mid-sentence. "Charles … is that …" she started then stopped, rising from her chair and crossing over to his desk. "The picture frame I gave you, the one with Alice's picture in it … it's back on your desk."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Is it? I hadn't noticed. Hmm, I wonder how long that's been there, right in my line of sight so I could see it every time I sit at my desk," he answered cheekily.

Elsie rounded the desk and dropped into his chair once she saw the contents of the frame. Looking up at him, tears started to fill her eyes. "It's not Alice," she exclaimed. "When did you …?"

"Move her? I admit that I only removed her photograph this morning, but the picture and frame have been locked away in my trunk since before our London trip last year. I kept the framed photo on my dresser for a few weeks after you gave it to me. It was such a lovely and thoughtful gift." Charles moved to stand behind Elsie, his large hands gently massaging her shoulders as he leaned his head against the top of hers, both staring into the frame. "I finally came to realize that I had made peace with my past and I was ready to move forward, to move on with my life. So, I packed her away with the other Cheerful Charlie memories."

Elsie reached up and covered his hands with hers. "You didn't have to do that, you know? I don't expect you to forget about her, just as I won't forget about Joe Burns. They're part of our pasts, for better or worse."

"But you are my future, Elsie. That's why I framed the postcard you pinned to my board in London. I moved Alice to the box in the trunk to be stored with other memories from the past and moved the Brighton postcard to a prominent spot on my desk, to be used as a reminder of how we began, how you encouraged me to take those first tentative steps towards where we are now. This …," he said, gesturing towards the framed postcard, "is what I want to be reminded of daily. I want to remember how pretty you looked in the sunshine, how your laughter cheered my heart, how you teased me about being risqué and assured me I could always hold your hand." Charles leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Elsie, hugging her to him and pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. "I hope, once the wedding is over, we might sit for a portrait together. Then, we can move this postcard to another place of prominence in our home and use this frame to hold our wedding photo."

Elsie suddenly stood and opened her arms to Charles. "Come here, you old booby!" She drew him into her embrace and kissed him soundly on the lips, holding nothing back and letting him know exactly how happy she was to be engaged to him. "Let's not move the postcard to another frame. Let's leave it in this one and place it on the mantle. We can choose something more appropriate for a wedding photo, if you really want one framed. But this," she said gesturing to the frame on the desk," is our beginning. It was bought to heal wounds from the past, it now holds happy thoughts from our present, and it opened up doors to our future together."

Charles hugged her tightly. "I believe the poets should have come to _you_, Elsie, for advice, instead of me."

Elsie laughed and cupped his cheeks with her hands. "And they should have come to you if they wanted to know how to truly win a woman's heart," she said slipping a hand down to pat his chest. "You may be the stuffy butler by day, but at night, with me, you turn into a hopeless romantic, and I fall in love with you more every day."

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing it against his palm. "I will never stop wooing you, Elsie Hughes. I love you and want to show you that love every day."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. "Then our retirement can't get here soon enough for me. I'm ready to move on to the next chapter in our lives. I have a feeling our best years are ahead of us."

"The night is still young," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her and giving her a wink. "What do you say to settling down on your settee and discussing this happy future in depth?"

"I'd say … you grab the wine and I'll go light a few candles. A move of this magnitude could take quite a while and we want to make sure we go over every detail."

"You'll find, Mrs. Hughes, that I am very keen on the details. I pride myself on anticipating a need before it happens."

She blushed a little, thinking of ways his comment could be applied to other areas of their life and marriage. "Oh, Mr. Carson, I don't know how but you managed to make that sound a little risqué!" She gave him a quick peck on the lips then disappeared quickly from the room, leaving him a little flustered.

Giving one last look at the frame, he smiled. Moving Alice to the past and Elsie into his future was the best thing he ever did.

**A/N:** Another drabble for your enjoyment! Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. Silver

**Silver:**

"Go on! You were young once!" Elsie Hughes said as they walked side by side down the corridor.

"I'm young now! Well, I'm not old," he added hastily, seeing the look in her eyes and knowing when he'd lost the battle. He watched as she shook her head and entered her sitting room, leaving him standing there a little befuddled.

With a huff, Carson retreated to his own sanctuary, gently closing the door behind him. Did she really see him as an old man, someone whose prime of life was behind him? Did she look at him and see a tired, run down relic, someone who clings to the past and outdated traditions? Surely, he still had several more years ahead of him to work, then maybe, if he was lucky, another dozen or so to fill out his retirement years.

This was where Charles Carson paused in his musings as he passed the mirror hanging in his office. Perhaps it was time for a true assessment of himself, a hard look at the man he had become and a chance to remember the carefree lad he had once been.

He started with his chin. Clearly defined, strong, sturdy, with just a little cleft there. His mother used to cradle his chin in her hand, her thumb fitting perfectly in that little space. He remembered being a happy lad, of about ten or so, receiving his fist bicycle. He was sure, now, that his parents had scrimped and saved every bit of extra money they could afford just to purchase it for his birthday. His eyes now darted to the slight scar to the right underside of his face. It had hurt when he fell from the bike, but his father had scooped him into his arms and assured him that every lad falls from time to time. It was simply a matter of when and where, but more importantly how he handled the pain of the fall.

Thinking back on that moment, Charles smiled warmly. His father had been full of wisdom, love, and kindness. How often had those words resonated in his ears … reminding him that pain comes to everyone and it's how its dealt with that makes the character of the man.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the darker thoughts, thoughts of past hurts, Charles focused now on his nose. Prominent feature on his face and no mistaking his profile in the mirror. He moved his head from side to side, surveying his nose. The longer he stared in the mirror, the more he began to see his father staring back at him. It was true, just as his mother had always said … "You have your father's nose but my eyes."

Chocolate brown, warm, expressive. Those were the words that came to mind when he stared himself in the eyes of the mirror. He wondered if Elsie would say the same if she were to give an account of his features. Or would she think his eyes cold, uncaring, harsh, lacking in emotion? He certainly hoped that was not how she saw him. He wanted, more than anything, for her to look into his eyes and see the warmth and love he held for her, the depths of his affection hidden within those dark orbs. He couldn't help but feel a little like a young man again, staring at himself in the mirror, wondering about the girl who had so captivated his heart and mind.

A few more wrinkles around his eyes and mouth only proved that he had marked several decades on the calendar. He noticed that when he smiled, the little laugh lines were a little more pronounced. He attributed that entirely to Mrs. Hughes … Elsie. She was one of only a few people in the house who could make him smile, truly smile. Her little jokes and stories, from her childhood and even from the daily running of the house, made him grin, sometimes peel with laughter.

Combining all those features and ignoring others … like the spots on the back of his hands, the aches and pains he felt when he'd worked too long or the weather grew colder, or the extra weight he carried around his middle … Charles Carson felt he well represented the strapping young man he had once been. The truly telling sign of his age, he supposed, was the silver streaks in his hair.

Elsie had them, too, of course, but hers framed her face. She looked rather pretty with those silver highlights among the auburn locks. His hair, the salt and pepper variety, she had called it once, made him feel a bit dated, worn, and, for lack of a better word, old.

By the end of his little discovery session in the mirror, Charles was well and truly deflated. He was feeling every one if his years and then some. He could understand why Elsie had given him the disapproving look when he had so righteously declared that he was "not old." With a bruised ego and his mood darkening, Charles slumped into his chair and huffed loudly, never seeing Elsie as she stood in the doorway.

Silently, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She prayed that, for once, they would not be interrupted. It was easy for her to tell that something was bothering Charles. She could tell by his sad eyes, his furrowed brow, and his downturned mouth.

"What's troubling you, Mr. Carson," she asked softly, coming to stand beside his chair and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with, Mrs. Hughes. Just a sad, old fool spending too many moments lost in memories, I suppose." He looked up and gave her a weak smile as a way of deflecting the hurt he was feeling inside.

"You may be sad, though you are not a fool," she offered, daring to each out and cup his chin in her hand just as his mother used to do. "I actually came in here to see if you'd like to take a walk with me, a turn around the gardens or perhaps down by the lake before dinner," she said trying to sound cheerful. "Perhaps the air will do you some good, clear the cobwebs from your mind. And, if you'd like to talk about what's not troubling you, I am told I'm a good listener," she said, giving his chin a little tweak before removing her hand.

But, before she could clasp her hands together in front of her, Charles reached up and claimed that hand, holding it tightly in his own. "Do you really think me old, Mrs. Hughes? Have I almost used up all the useful bits in me, seen my better days?"

"Heavens, no, Mr. Carson. Whatever makes you say that … even think it for that matter? I don't see you that way at all," she said adamantly. "If this is about earlier … I was merely frustrated." She could see now that her words had stung him, had wounded him, even, and that caused a pain in her chest. "Mr. Carson … Charles … every one of us in this house is getting older … by the second, the minute, the hour, but that's the natural order of things. True, we're not the same people we were in our twenties and thirties, but that doesn't mean we're any less useful or fit. In fact, I would dare say that we've learned a thing or two, made mistakes, hand more than a few laughs." She leaned down and pointed at the corners of her eyes with her free hand. "See these? Laugh lines. I blame you for most of them. You make me happy and give me reasons to smile." She then pointed to the silver hairs in her head. "You're also responsible for these, as well. Worrying about your health, hoping you'd stop working so hard, praying you'd stop and notice … the …"

"Notice what, Elsie?" Charles suddenly felt bolder and a little happier since she'd entered his office. "Notice that your eyes are the color of a summer's day when you're happy, and like a serious thunderstorm brewing when you're angry? Notice that you have those laugh lines and add to the beauty of your eyes? Notice that you always smell of vanilla during the week but always with a hint of jasmine on Sundays? Or these," he said, reaching up to lightly brush his fingertips across the silver streaks in her hair.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, smiling so softly and sweetly that it took all of his willpower not to lean forward and press his lips to hers.

"I notice all those things and so much more, Elsie Hughes. There are a thousand and one things I could tell you that I have noted about you, your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes. I am very observant, especially when it comes to you," he added softly.

She opened her eyes to find him staring directly into hers. Boldly, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his silver locks. "Then don't let a few silver hairs dampen your spirits." Her fingertips lightly caressed his ear, the side of his neck, then his chin. "I happen to think your silver hair is quite dashing. It makes you look so handsome and distinguished. I find you very … appealing, Charles Carson, so don't go changing on me now," she added softly before swiftly kissing him lightly on the lips.

Before he could respond, to her kiss or her words, she had left his office and closed the door behind her. Perhaps, it was time to reevaluate the way saw himself in the mirror. Just maybe, getting older and having a few more silver hairs wasn't going to be such a terrible fate after all, especially if Elsie Hughes found it … appealing.

**A/N:** Thanks for your reviews, support, and encouragement!


	11. Prepared

**Prepared:**

She is a good wife. She knows it because he tells her often, shows her daily how much he loves and adores her. She knows it, too, because she is doing her best to make him happy, though it doesn't take much. He is not a complicated man at all, especially now that they have retired and she's finally broken down all of his walls to their foundations.

She dotes on him, and he, in turn, showers her with love and affection. They scoff at the rumors that theirs was merely a marriage of convenience, a marriage based solely on companionship. Oh, if only those gossipers knew how very happy and satisfied the Carsons are almost nightly. True, they are not young anymore, but there is more to making love than the hard grinding, the loud grunts, the fast pace. There is also tenderness, cuddles, soft caresses, erotic words spoken in the midst of it all. There is waking up slowly in each other's arms, being able to laugh in the middle of making love, sharing little intimacies, things only the other knows. No, theirs is not a marriage of convenience but a marriage built on a solid foundation of friendship, grown with love and care through the years, and flourishing in the bright sunlight of retirement and a carefree approach to every single day.

Still, she should have prepared him for this. He will not have seen it coming, and it will be a shock. She knows, in her heart, that he won't be angry … for long. Startled, yes, she will give him that. Surprised, most definitely if she is any judge. Appreciative, for sure, once he has had a moment to two to fully digest the situation and accept it for what it is.

She has taken him into the village for a lovely afternoon. They have spent an hour in the local bookshop, perusing through the new books as well as some of the gently used ones. To them, a book does not have to be new to be enjoyed, only well written. She has offered to buy him a new book of poetry or the newly released complete works of Dickens. He has selected several books of poetry, saying he would love to spend some summer evenings reading to her, winter evenings by a fire reciting from memory their favorite bits of poetry. How could she argue with that? She kisses him softly on the cheek, purchases the books and then leads him on to their next stop.

She considers, once more, coming clean, confessing, telling all. But, she knows that is not the proper way to do things. It wouldn't be fair to anyone, really. She will enjoy the remainder of their outing and do her best to shower him with love. After all, it is his special day.

When they have enjoyed their lunch in the village. They have taken a leisurely stroll back to the house, stopping along the way to share a few stolen kisses, a few naughty touches, several promises for things to come later in the evening. She thinks, for the last time, that she should prepare him for what lies ahead. But, they are nearing the cottage door, and she is sure that all will be well in the end. She is as sure of that as she is her name … Elsie Carson.

She stops him just outside the cottage door, the key in his hand almost inserted into the lock of their front door. She cups his cheek and draws his head down to hers for a slow, sensual kiss. When she pulls back, he is a little breathless, a little surprised but happily so. "I love you so much," she says in earnest. "I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Charles! No one deserves it more than you."

He grins and leans in for a second kiss. "And do you have something special for my 80th birthday, Mrs. Carson?" She had promised him a surprise once they returned home. He is hopeful that they will have a nice, hearty meal and then retire for an early night, a night spent in the arms of his lover, his best friend, his wife.

No doubt, he is thinking of their evening ahead, but she is thinking of their immediate future. On the other side of their cottage door is their extended family. Alfred, Daisy, Beryl, Anna, John, Mary, George, Edith, Marigold, Mr. Molesley, Miss Baxter, even His Lordship and Her Ladyship. Lady Mary surprised Elsie by seeking permission to throw Charles a party to celebrate his milestone birthday. She could not decline the offer.

She should have prepared him for this surprise, but she would make it up to him later … after everyone has gone home and they are alone. She will tell him of the weeks of planning, the happiness it gave Lady Mary to plan the party, the thrill it gave her to see her husband so cherished and honored by those they have loved and cared for for years. Instead, she takes the key from his hand, inserts it onto the lock, ushers him through the door just as the well-wishers yell:

"**SURPRISE!"**


	12. Knowledge

**KNOWLEDGE:**

_I may not be a woman of the world, but I don't live in a sack!_

Elsie Hughes couldn't count the number of girls she had lectured over the course of her time as Housekeeper at Dowtnon Abbey. Some girls came to her with little knowledge of their bodies, of how things worked between a man and a woman. Elsie blamed their mothers for not imparting those crucial details to these young women before sending them off to work. Others, she discovered, were more than versed in the ways of the world. Her talks to them had been more about consequences, diseases, and ruined reputations.

On the few occasions when a housemaid announced she was planning to marry a lad from the village, Elsie would draw the girl into her sitting room, and, over the course of a cup of tea, she would have a very frank discussion about marriage and love. It was a time for the young lady to seek advice or to ask any questions which she might have before her wedding night.

Growing up on a farm, Elsie Hughes knew about such things. From a young age, seeing the animals mating and birthing, asking her mother questions when her younger sister, Becky, was born, and being an avid learner, it hadn't taken long before Elsie knew the way of the world. Her mother had sat her down one evening, the day of her first cycle, and discussed everything with her, openly answering any questions. Elsie had learned quite a bit and for that she was grateful.

Now, with all that knowledge tucked safely away in her mind, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She could hear her mother's voice in her head, reminding her that everything will happen naturally and will be beautiful if you love the man you are with and he loves you in return. She could see her mother's laughter as she told her daughter that being married to the right man could be delicious fun, adventurous, and, if he truly was the right man, they would embark on something incredibly special.

She smiled and closed her eyes, remembering the way Charles Carson had proposed to her. He hadn't dropped down to one knee like most men of his generation. He hadn't used flowery words, poetry, or even produced a ring. She hadn't needed any of those clichéd sentiments. Instead, he had spoken frankly, freely, and with an edge to his voice alerting to her to his nervous state. He had stated, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted her … well, to be stuck with her … which was, in itself, a rather lovely thought.

He wanted her, and she had wanted no other man. Of that, she was certain. She had turned down Joe Burns's proposal of marriage for a very good reason. Charles Carson had worked his way into her heart though she wouldn't go so far as to say she had been in love with him back then. Joe, while being a nice man with property and income, had never captivated Elsie's heart, mind, and imagination as Charles had done so effortlessly. Talking with Joe about farming life and Scotland was easy. Talking with Charles about everything and nothing at all was even easier. Sitting in companionable silence was just as special as discussing a book they had both read, an article in the paper which caught their eyes, or any number of things which could spark a conversation. He engaged all of her senses … body, mind, and spirit.

Tonight, though, Elsie was more than a little nervous. It was her wedding night and she wanted everything to go well for them. She had no doubts about the love they shared. She had been sure of it the day he proposed, and she was reassured when they finally shared that first, sweet kiss. From that moment onward, their touches, embraces, and kisses had grown in intensity. There was no denying that the man she now called her husband had a passionate side to him.

Looking in the mirror, Elsie recalled tidbits of advice she had heard over the years. Some of it was good advice … he is just as nervous as you … don't overthink things … try to relax and enjoy the evening. Other bits of advice, she would be ignoring completely … lie back and let him get it over with … you're not supposed to enjoy it … if you're lucky, it will all be over soon.

She shook her head to rid herself of her thoughts which were threatening to spiral out of control. Her mother had made sure she was prepared for this evening. Charles loved her more than anyone else in the world, and she could say the same about him. All the knowledge in the world, all the advice from wise old women or bitter old spinsters, and all the books published on the subject were of no use to Elsie Carson at this moment. Nothing mattered to her except the man on the other side of this bathroom door, waiting, rather impatiently she assumed, for her to join him in the bedroom.

Pinching her cheeks a little and smoothing down the white silk gown she had purchased especially for this night, she took one last deep breath, letting it slowly. With a slightly shaking hand, she turned the doorknob and opened the door, taking her first steps into the bedroom and towards her husband.

There, sitting on the edge of the bed and patiently waiting for her, was her husband. Together, this night, they would share their combined knowledge. They would teach each other things, intimate things … how to touch, what was most pleasurable, what made their bodies hum with excitement. A practical knowledge was necessary for starters but tonight, Elsie and Charles Carson would begin a journey, a thirst for knowledge that would prove to be unquenchable. They would learn the art of love.

**A/N:** Apologies for not being able to respond personally to each and every review. I do try to keep up with those but real life sort of slammed me this week. Please know that I value your reviews and look forward to hearing your comments on the chapters! HUGS!


	13. Denial

**Denial:**

She could tell from his demeanor at the breakfast table that something was amiss, though she didn't want to draw attention to it with everyone else still milling about. She looked from his face to the set of papers he was holding in his hands, searching for some clue as to whether the news was good or bad, but having absolutely no luck at all.

Deciding that it would be best if she sent them all on their way, Elsie announced that breakfast was over and that everyone should get on with their work. Charles still sat, unfazed, by her sudden declaration. It was as if he hadn't heard a word she had said. When everyone had left the servant's hall, she dared to reach across and touch his arm, speaking his name softly.

"Charles? Whatever's the matter with you? You've gone white as a sheet and you're starting to worry me," she said with some level of concern to her voice.

For the first time since opening the envelope, he finally looked up. He realized that everyone else left to see about their tasks for the morning, leaving just the two of them at the table. "Perhaps we should go to my pantry, Elsie. I … I don't quite know what to make of this," he said, waving the letter and envelope in front of her.

Her eyes widened, assuming the worst yet having nothing to base that assumption upon. "You go ahead. I'll make us a fresh pot of tea and join you in a moment. But, Charles," she said, rising from her chair and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "whatever it is, just remember that we are in it together. Burdens shared, joys doubled, remember? Don't shut me out," she pleaded, giving his shoulder a squeeze before leaving him still sitting at the head of the table.

A few moments later, Elsie walked into his sitting room unannounced, carrying a tray with tea and a few biscuits. She had expected Charles to be pacing the floor, as he so often did when something was worrying him, or staring into the abyss, as he had done at breakfast. Instead, she found him on the phone speaking with someone urgently. She could tell, from his rigid posture and his commanding voice that it was business related, something of a personal nature. She considered, briefly, leaving the room to give him some privacy, but she quickly banished that thought from her mind. If they were to be married, his business affairs would become hers and vice versa. Besides, if she stayed and listened, it would save him the trouble of repeating the conversation later.

Snippets of Charles's conversation with the person on the other end of the phone alerted Elsie to a few key facts. He must be talking to the man in charge of the bank in Ripon. That was where Charles did all of his financial transactions, saying he didn't like the idea of those in the village also knowing his financial status. From what she could gather from Charles's comments, there had been some discrepancy in the account, hence the reason for the letter he was now waving in the air rather excitedly. There was some issue with the balance in the account. From Charles's side of the conversation, there should be less money in the account which apparently did not coincide with what the papers stated or the man on the other end of the phone.

Finally, exasperated, Charles ended the call and sat motionless for several moments, staring straight ahead at Elsie but not saying a word. Finally, when he did speak, he still didn't make any sense. "It just can't be," he said softly. "I just cannot believe it. There has to be an error somewhere. Impossible," he whispered, scrubbing his hand over his face. His denial of the facts he had heard on the phone was unsettling to say the least.

Elsie sat up on the edge of her seat, torn between letting him have a moment to process the information he'd just received and crossing to his side, offering him whatever comfort he needed. Charles was rarely speechless so to see him like this made her nervous. "Charles, tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, we can fix it. I'm sure of it, but you need to talk to me. Please."

Without a word, Charles extended his hand to her, a silent request for her be near him, to hold his hand. She was at his side in two long strides, kneeling beside his chair and taking his hand in hers. She threaded her fingers with his, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Elsie," he started, "there has been a situation at the bank. I still can't believe it. It's … there's no denying the totals … the figures do add up … I suppose I'm just in a state of denial."

Her frustration level had reached its limits. "Charles Carson," she said, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "If you don't tell me what's happened immediately, I will phone the bank myself and demand some answers," she said with a threatening tone to her voice. "I cannot help you if you speak in riddles. I'm good but not quite that good … yet."

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "The money that was supposed to be taken out of my account … well, our account now that we're engaged … the money was supposed to be taken out of the bank for the purchase of the house. When I looked at the figures this morning, the money was still there, though I've signed the deed. The cottage is ours, according to the documents, but the money is still in the account."

Elsie breathed a sigh of relief. "That's it?! The money is still in the account and that has you worried? I'm sure it's just a clerical error and they haven't removed the money yet. I'm sure these things take time."

He shook his head. "NO, that's not it! The money is still there … and it's doubled! The exact amount of the sale of the cottage has been ADDED to our account. Instead of taking the money out, they added to it … and it was quite a remarkable sum. Mind you, we still would have had more than enough to live comfortably, but now, with the added money, it means we wouldn't ever have to worry about purchases or Becky ever again!"

Elsie was so touched that he had automatically included Becky in his thoughts, making sure she was well cared for, too, that she didn't fully grasp everything he was saying. "It has to be an error on the bank's part, Charles. Don't get so worked up. Someone added instead of subtracted. Now that the bank knows …"

"That's just it. They do know. They were told to add the money into the account, the exact amount of the purchase price of the cottage. The bank manager also said that he had also been instructed to add an additional sum to the account on the day of our marriage … another sum equal to the cottage."

Elsie stood up abruptly and reached for the nearest chair. "What are you telling me, Charles? We have some generous benefactor randomly adding money to your … our … bank account? How on earth did they manage that? I don't even have access to that account yet since we're not married."

Charles turned to her and smiled broadly, his denial and disbelief finally giving way to the reality of the situation. "Lord Grantham … he called the bank and spoke to the manager. We were refunded the amount of the cottage and the additional sum on his request. The money added to our account was from their private account. He said if I wanted to know more, I should ask His Lordship for details."

Elsie's eyes grew wide as she stared down at the bank papers then back up at Charles. "I don't know what to say. Are you going to ask His Lordship about it? I know the topic of money is a delicate topic, but we cannot pretend this didn't happen. If we spent the money and then came up short …"

"I'll speak to him. I'll wait until breakfast is over and then I'll seek a word with him in private. I'll let you know what he says."

Elsie cradled his face in hers, giving him a soft kiss and a warm hug. "I'm sure it will be fine, love. Try to drink your tea and calm your thoughts, but come see me as soon as you've had a chance to speak to him." With one last kiss to his forehead, Elsie left Charles in his pantry for a few moments of peace and quiet.

It was well over two hours later when Charles finally entered Elsie's sitting room. He crossed the room and dropped down to the settee, patting the seat beside him hoping she would join him. When she was settled comfortably in his arms, he began to explain everything.

"We are very fortunate, my dear. His Lordship did, indeed, contact the bank and requested that the cottage money be returned and doubled. When I asked why, he said that we had purchased a cottage on our own but the family had always intended to give us each a cottage. After so many years of dedicated and loyal service, he felt the family owed us a cottage of our choosing. That's why the money was placed back into the account along with the additional sum. That, he said, was a gift from the family … my cottage for my retirement."

Elsie nodded and smiled. "That was very kind of them. You deserve it. You've earned it." She placed a kiss to his cheek and squeezed his hand.

"But that's not all. Remember I said the bank manager indicated that a similar sum would be added on the day of our wedding? Well, that, love, is a gift from the family as well. You see, they were planning to give you a cottage, too, upon your retirement. Since we will be living together in our own cottage, His Lordship felt it was only fair to give you the money that would have been spent on your own home."

For a long moment, silence reigned in the sitting room, both occupants trying desperately to take in the news of their good fortune. It was Charles who found his voice first, breaking into the quietness of the room. "There is no use in denying it, Elsie. We are so very blessed," he said, tears prickling his eyes. "You, Becky, and I won't ever have to worry about anything ever again."

She snuggled into his side and whispered softly against his chest. "I wasn't worried to begin with, Charles. I won't sit here and deny that I've struggled and fretted over money in the past, but as long as I have you by my side, I know that whatever happens, we have each other."

"Each other … our cottage … and our love," he added, kissing the top of her head.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes more before deciding that there were things that needed overseeing. As he was getting ready to leave, Elsie drew him into her arms for a warm hug. "Want to know something else that I cannot deny?" He raised his eyebrows in silent answer to her question. "I am madly and hopelessly in love with you, Charles Carson. No amount of money can ever change that."

He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her sweetly. "No sense in denying it, Elsie Hughes. I cannot wait to be married to you and start our new life together … in a cottage of our very own."

**A/N:** Thank you all so very much for your reviews, comments, and support. I love hearing what you think of the chapters. I hope you're still enjoying the little stories!


	14. Wind

**Wind:**

It's cold outside and the wind is howling, causing the branches of the trees to tap the windowpanes, rattling the shutters of the sturdy cottage. The occasional whistle can be heard as the ferocious breeze whips through the barren trees, reminding the world that winter is still firmly in control and spring must wait a little longer.

Inside, Charles and Elsie Carson are curled up in their large bed. They've been married and retired for months now, and they're settling in nicely to this new routine … or lack of one in their cases. They've learned, over the course of the last few months, to enjoy their new freedom. No need to rise with the sun. No need to stay up late if sleep beckons them to their bed earlier some nights. No need to do anything other than what they choose to do on any particular given day.

Today, with the wind whipping about outside their cozy little cottage, Charles has decided it should be an indoor sort of day. In particular, it should be the sort of lazy one where they stay in bed for the entire day, eat only when they are hungry, nap sometime late in the afternoon, perhaps take a long soak in the tub together using Elsie's favorite bubble bath or oils. He could treat to her a massage. She might consent to cooking him beans on toast for dinner.

He spoons against her, drawing her in as close to his body as possible, his broad hand resting heavily on her stomach, his thumb caressing the area just beneath her breasts. His lips begin bathing her neck and shoulder in light kisses, making a path towards her ear where he begins to nibble lightly causing her to moan in her early morning haze, her eyelids still closed in that span between sleep and awake. He hears her moan softly, a little sigh of pleasure when he nuzzles the spot just below her ear. He feels her press her bottom back against him and then she releases a long sigh of contentment.

Again, the wind howls and the shutters rattle, but neither of them pay it any mind. She turns in his embrace, draping her arm across his shoulder, around his neck, drawing him deeper and deeper into a kiss filled with longing and passion. It is soft and sensual, his warm breath caressing her face, her talented tongue stroking his, coaxing him towards her like a siren.

A particularly strong branch of the tree slams hard against the window causing them to cease the kiss. She rubs her nose against his as she drapes her leg around his hip, inching impossibly closer to him. Her desire is evident, as is his. She smiles at him, her dark blue eyes staring into his warm brown ones.

"March comes in like a lion," she purrs, rocking her hips against his teasingly.

He growls and presses her back against the bedding, hovering over her and grinning wickedly. "March isn't the only one that comes in like a lion," he counters before capturing her lips in a heated kiss, all thoughts of wind and duties, of anything other than their lovemaking, flee from their thoughts.

**A/N:** Thank you all for your lovely reviews and encouragement. It makes me so happy that you're still enjoying the drabbles. I hope to post a second one later today since I didn't post one yesterday.


	15. Order

**Order:**

There is a natural order of things in the universe. Everything has a place and everything should be in its place. At least, that is according to Charles Carson. He has a certain way of doing things, an order to his life that hasn't changed much over the course of his long life. Change can be unsettling to him, making him nervous about the future.

Elsie Hughes Carson, however, doesn't take that approach to most things in her life. True, she appreciates good organization, a method to the madness, but that is where she and her husband differ. She embraces change, likes to move along with the times, looks for simpler ways of doing things instead of plodding along simply because that's the way it's always been done.

And because of this differing opinion on change and order, they eventually found themselves at a crossroads.

They were settling in to their new cottage, having married and retired only a week ago. Replacements had been chosen for their jobs. Mrs. Baxter, as she was now known, was proving to be an excellent leader, already earning the respect of the maids and Mrs. Patmore. Mr. Barrow was still struggling, though Elsie had no doubts that with Mrs. Baxter's help, he would grow into the position. Charles still grumbled from time to time about standards slipping or the demise he feared for the wine cellar. It was in these moments that Elsie tried to soothe his nerves, remind him that he now had other things to focus upon. He would smile, tell her he loved her, and the conversation would drift to something else.

It was while they were unpacking boxes in their new home that the issue of order arose. Charles had kissed Elsie on the cheek and gave her a warm hug before announcing, after breakfast, that he would spend his morning organizing their little library. Together, they had a modest selection of books and Charles had volunteered to unpack those boxes while Elsie sorted her kitchen.

At the time, it had seemed like an agreeable solution. She knew it would take him hours, at best, to organize their combined collection. He had talked, at length, on whether to order the books by height, author, genre, or publication date. Charles had explained the merits of each filing system and then highlighted the potential problems with the different ways. Elsie had assured him that whatever method he chose, she would adapt accordingly and would try her best to learn the system as quickly as possible.

With her husband occupied in the library, Elsie focused her attention on the kitchen until she felt a pair of warm arms slipping around her, his lips briefly touching the side of her neck. And then it started!

"Elsie Carson! You can't possible mean to tell me you're going to put that there," he gasped, leaning around her to remove the glass jar and repositioning it to another location closer to the front of the shelf.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. This was the fourth spice jar she had placed in their kitchen cupboard only to have him relocate it to another area of the same cabinet. "And what was wrong with putting the oregano next to the apple spices?"

His eyebrows rose high on his brow as he stared down at his wife of a week. "You can't possibly mean to say that you _don't_ see what's wrong with the arrangement," he scoffed, hoping she was teasing but quickly picking up on the fact that she was most serious.

Elsie turned and faced him fully, crossing her arms in front of her chest and tapping her foot impatiently. "Well, I'm waiting on the answer, Mr. Carson. And while we're on the subject, pray tell, what was wrong with the garlic, the paprika, and the nutmeg? I had that section of the shelf already arranged how I wanted it before you came in and started rearranging." Her left eyebrow arched as she gave him a piercing look.

"Well, that is to say … it's the order of things … or lack thereof, love." He reached out and ran his hands up and down her upper arms in an attempt to soothe her temper. Charles was certain he was heading for trouble and the last thing he wanted was to spend the night on the sofa.

Elsie looked at her husband, then the cabinet, then back to her husband. "There is an order, or there was before you started reaching around me and rearranging things. I will admit that it was nice having you pressed against me from behind and your arms around me … in the beginning. I thought you were actually trying to initiate something. Little did I know that my dear husband of only one week was less concerned with seducing his wife and merely interested in the status of my spice cupboard."

She turned her back to him and began pulling the other jars from the crate and placing them on the counter in front of her. "I admit I'm not a Beryl Patmore in the kitchen, Charles, but I do try, and I am familiar with all the spices I ordered for this house. It might also interest you to know that there was an order to the arrangement." She turned to him and gave him a stern look. "I was arranging them according to the ones I intend on using the most. That is why … in case you were wondering … the apple spices for your apple tarts and the paprika for your potatoes were side by side! The basil, parsley, and a few of the others that I will use less frequently, I was putting those towards the back of the cabinet."

Charles started to speak but her finger across his lips silenced him. He waited, rather nervously, for Elsie to lash out at him once more. Briefly, he wondered how comfortable the couch would be or if she would simply give him the silent treatment for the remainder of the night. Before he truly had a chance to work himself into a state of panic, she spoke again.

"If you will excuse me, I'm going upstairs for a hot bath. When I come back downstairs, I will cook dinner for us and then we can talk about how _I_ want to organize the books in the library." She started to walk away from him, but Charles caught her with his hand on her hip, halting her in her tracks.

"Wait, Elsie, love, please. I'm sorry. I didn't know you were placing them in the order of most used to least used. Honestly, sweetheart, I was only trying to make things easier for you. I should have known that you would have it all under control."

She stared into his chocolate brown eyes and knew she couldn't stay angry at him. She never could when he looked at her with that contrite expression. "And what about the other issue I mentioned?" she asked, wondering if she would have to enlighten him there, too.

"The books in the library? I thought we might discuss that over dinner … after your bath, of course," he answered. But there was a little gleam in his eyes as he stared down into her face.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Well, if that's truly what you want, why don't you go ahead and unpack the rest of the books? I, on the other hand, am going to go upstairs, slip out of these clothes, run a hot bath with some of those vanilla scented oils, then lounge in the water until it's completely cold," she said with a purr to her voice. "Too bad you were too concerned with the order of things to notice that sometimes a little deviation from the norm can be quite exhilarating."

She turned on her heels and started towards the stairway but cast a glance over her shoulder. "Or, you could join me upstairs and we can discuss more intimate things this evening?" She gave him a quick wink and grinned. "Unless you're still determined to organize the bookshelves after attending to the spice cupboard."

Charles crossed the room in two long strides and scooped her into his arms, kissing her soundly. "The only order we need to discuss this evening is whether I should wash your hair or your back first? Then, after our bath … should I kiss my way up your body starting at your feet or should I kiss your forehead and work my way down to your toes?"

She looped her arms around his neck and grinned. "Apple spices next to the paprika still bothering you, Charlie?"

"Couldn't care less about that, love. You've got that well under control except for one thing," he added hastily.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Regardless of the books and the spices and the unpacking of boxes, nothing will ever be as important to me as seducing my amazing wife." He gave her bottom a little pinch then a pat. "Now, explain to me the order of making the perfect bath for you … oils in first or last … hot or cold water taps on first?" he asked, guiding her up the stairs where they would spend the rest of their afternoon. The spices, the books, and the natural order of things long forgotten as Elsie reminded Charles that structure and order are not as fun as adventure and exploring new ideas.

**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed this little adventure with Charles and Elsie. I'd love to hear your thoughts! HUGS to all!


	16. Thanks

**Thanks:**

There was a timid knock on Charles Carson's panty door. It was so soft he almost didn't hear it over the sound of his own thoughts. He had almost convinced himself that he hadn't heard the knock when it happened again.

"Come in," he called out, closing the ledger he'd been using to plan out the particulars of his honeymoon with Elsie. Being a man who paid a great attention to even the smallest details, he wanted everything perfect, leaving nothing to chance. He made it a habit to go over the list daily, adding things as he thought of them, crossing out others as they were completed.

Charles waited for another moment before sighing heavily and crossing the room to open the door a little more forcefully than he had intended. He was, however, not prepared for the sight that greeted him. There, before him, stood Miss Sybbie. Immediately, Charles bent down on one knee so he could look her in the eye.

"Miss Sybbie, what are you doing down here?" he asked, being mindful to keep the harsh tones from his voice. "You should be upstairs in the nursery."

Sybbie shook her head but did not say a word. She clung tightly to her doll, dropping her gaze down to the floor. As the silence stretched out between her and Carson, she began to shift a little nervously from one foot to the other.

"Would you care to come into my office? We can have a little chat, if you'd like, of course." When she nodded, Charles stood, offered her his hand, and then guided her into the office. He made sure to leave the door cracked in case someone came looking for the missing child. He helped her into the seat usually occupied by Mrs. Hughes and then he knelt down beside her. "I am afraid I don't have any biscuits or tea to offer you, but I could see if, perhaps, Mrs. Hughes or Mrs. Patmore might have something."

"No, that's okay," she said softly, speaking for the first time since knocking on his door. "I am not supposed to be here. I didn't tell Nanny where I was going. She probably doesn't even miss me."

Charles drew a chair up close to hers, taking one of her little hands in his much larger one. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that. I bet you she's already searching for you, rather frantically, I would think, since you didn't tell her you were leaving. Would you like me to walk with you back to the nursery?"

Sybbie gripped his hand as tightly as she could, a gesture which was not lost on the big, burly butler.  
"I needed to talk to you. That's why I'm here."

Charles looked puzzled as he quickly pondered what on earth the child would need with him. "Very well. You have my full attention," he assured the child, giving her a warm smile and patting her hand with his free one. "What would you like to talk about?"

The little dark haired girl shifted in her seat and began to play with a curl on her doll's head.

Charles sat patiently, not wanting to rush the child or scare her. She had obviously sought him out for a reason, but if she wasn't ready to divulge those details, pressuring her would do him no good. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a biscuit? I could go get us some," he added with a wink. When she declined, he offered her a peppermint stick. "I keep those in here. Mrs. Hughes loves them so I always keep a few in here for her, too."

At the sound of Mrs. Hughes's name being uttered, Sybbie perked up. "Mrs. Hughes eats them, too? May I have one of her peppermint sticks?"

Charles grinned. "Of course. I am sure she wouldn't mind me giving you one. She is very nice and generous. She is very good at sharing."

Sybbie took the peppermint stick and gave it a little nibble. "I'm not so good at that, yet, but I'm working on it," she added hastily. "I suppose that's why I wanted to talk to you. I don't like the way I feel when I'm angry at you."

The child had well and truly caught Charles Carson off guard. He hadn't been expecting to hear that this wee slip of a child was angry at him for some unknown reason. Instantly, he began thinking back over the last few days, weeks even, trying to think of some reason she might have for being upset with him. Finding nothing, he ventured to ask why.

"You're going to take Mrs. Hughes away from me." Her voice was so soft, so timid that Charles was almost sure he hadn't heard her correctly.

"Take her away," he asked. "What makes you say that, Miss Sybbie? I don't have any plans of taking her away."

"I heard Nanny talking to one of the maids. She said you were getting married and that Mrs. Hughes would be Mrs. Carson, and that you had a house somewhere else, and one day you would leave and live in your own house."

Charles felt his heart ache for the little girl. She had already lost her mother, her father was thinking of moving them to America … away from the only family she had ever known, and now she was afraid he was taking away Mrs. Hughes. He gently lifted the little girl from her chair and into his lap, holding her close to him. He gave her a hug and guided her head to his chest before he answered her.

"Miss Sybbie, you have my solemn oath, my promise that I am not taking Mrs. Hughes away from you. I would never do such a thing. I know you love her very much, and she adores you. Isn't she the one that gave you this doll?"

Sybbie nodded. "She's my favorite doll, too. I wouldn't trade her for any other toy in the nursery … or even the store we sometimes visit in town. But the maid and Nanny said …"

"I'm sure you heard them talking about when Mrs. Hughes and I get married. She will change her name to Mrs. Carson, and we do have a house away from here, but we won't be leaving Downton anytime soon. We plan to stay here for as long as we can, to watch you and Master George grow up."

The child perked up and, for the first time since appearing at his door, she smiled. "You won't take her away from me? And I can still come and visit her and have tea?"

Charles laughed. "Yes, you can still do all of those things." He gave her another tight hug and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "And even if we did move to the other house, which we won't be doing for quite some time, you would be welcomed in our cottage. I'm sure Mrs. Hughes would miss you terribly." Charles immediately wondered how the child and Elsie would cope with the separation if Mr. Branson moved them to America.

"I would miss her, too. She tells me stories about my Mama, and she gives me the best cuddles. I sometimes visit her just because I want a hug. But don't tell her I said that, please. She might not give me the biscuits, too."

Fighting the urge to grin, Charles steeled his expression into one of seriousness. "You have my word, Miss Sybbie. Not a word from me about your cuddles and biscuits."

She turned in his arms and gave him a big kiss on his cheek and tried, very hard, to wrap her little arms around his neck for a hug. "Thanks, Mr. Carson," she said sweetly. "I'm glad to know you're not planning to steal my Mrs. Hughes away. I didn't like being upset with you because I know Mrs. Hughes loves you very much … almost as much as she loves me, I'll bet."

At that point, Charles burst into laughter, almost startling the child. "Yes, I'm sure she does love me about that much. Thank you for saying so and for sharing her with me. She's very special, and I would miss her cuddles, too. But don't tell her I said that or she might not give me as many," he teased, tickling the little girl's tummy.

"We can have a secret, then! Just between us, though maybe we should tell Mrs. Hughes. I don't want to have secrets from her."

"I will leave that up to you. If you'd like to tell her the next time you see her, I won't object. But, for now, I think it would be a good idea if we got you back upstairs to the nursery before Nanny starts to worry about you."

"Carson, where is America?" she asked, catching Charles by surprise once more. "Isn't that a long way away?"

"It is far away. It's all the way across the ocean. But, people from over there visit England all the time. And your Papa has been to America several times. What makes you ask?"

"I heard Nanny saying we might be leaving, too, and I don't want to go. I wouldn't get to see Mrs. Hughes or play with George. I wouldn't even get to see you or have you give me peppermint sticks."

"You shouldn't worry about those things, and Nanny shouldn't be talking so much." Charles made a mental note to discuss the chatty nature with Elsie so she could speak to the woman about her discussions in front of the children. "Whatever you do and wherever you go, it won't change the fact that everyone in this house loves you very much. Even if you lived a million miles away, I can promise you that Mrs. Hughes would write to you and send you packages. She would only want to see you happy. Same can be said for your father. He only wants what's best for you."

Sybbie thought on that for a moment as she sucked on her peppermint stick. Suddenly, she gave Carson another kiss to his cheek and hugged him. "I think I'm ready to go upstairs now. Will you take me?"

He smiled and scooped the girl into his strong arms. "It would be my pleasure."

As they reached the door, Charles saw the familiar silhouette of Elsie and the sleeve of a grey suit. He was not surprised to find Elsie and Tom Branson lurking in the doorway, obviously listening in on the conversation between himself and the little girl.

"Sybbie, darling, there you are. Nanny has had us all looking for you," Tom said, reaching out to take her into his arms. She tightened her hold on Carson and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Mr. Carson is going to take me back to the nursery. I had to talk to him, and he made me feel all better." She held up her candy and grinned. "Look, Mrs. Hughes! He gave me one of your sweets. I hope you don't mind. He said you wouldn't."

Elsie brushed her hand through the girl's long hair "Of course, I don't mind. I'm glad he shared them with you. Would it be alright with you if I went with you and Mr. Carson back to the nursery? I haven't seen you in a few days, and I've missed you."

Sybbie squealed and threw herself into Elsie's arms, almost knocking the woman off her feet with her enthusiasm. "I would love it." Firmly settled in Elsie's embrace, Sybbie turned to Charles and patted his cheek. "Thanks, Mr. Carson. I'm sorry I was angry with you, but you made it all better. Thanks for not taking away my Mrs. Hughes."

The tips of his ears reddened and began to burn from embarrassment. "I think you'd best be off if you don't want to miss your dinner," he said with a wink. "You go along. I'll be right behind you," he said, motioning for Elsie to start towards the nursery without him. When they were up the first staircase and out of earshot, Charles turned to Tom, intent on explaining what happened.

"No need to explain, Mr. Carson. We heard most of it. Nanny came downstairs in a panic when she discovered Sybbie was missing. I thought she might be down here with Mrs. Hughes. We were coming to alert you that she was missing when we heard her voice in your pantry." Tom cleared his throat and stood up straighter and taller. "Thanks for taking care of her like you did, reassuring her and all about America and her favorite housekeeper."

"It was nothing, Mr. Branson. She was a worried little girl, and I did what I could to alleviate some of her concerns. I'm honored that she came to me to discuss the matter."

"Well, I'm sure Mrs. Hughes will tell you this later since I've already shared it with her, but I'm going to announce at dinner this evening that we're staying here at Downton. If anything, overhearing the conversation between you and Sybbie this evening helped confirm my decision. It would be wrong of me to take her so far away from so many people she loves."

"I'm pleased to hear it. Now, if there is nothing else, I should probably head upstairs. I did promise them I wouldn't be far behind."

"Right. I'll leave you to it. And thanks again for everything, Mr. Carson … for taking care of my little girl and for making Mrs. Hughes a happy woman. She deserves every happiness … as do you."

Charles nodded his head then quickly made his way up the stairs. He was surprised, however, to see Elsie and Sybbie standing at the top of the first landing, apparently waiting on him. "I thought you would be halfway there by now."

"No, we decided to be sneaky and wait on you," Sybbie proudly announced. "We have something for you," she said with a grin.

Charles looked at Elsie, asking a silent question.

"Ready, Miss Sybbie?"

"Ready, Mrs. Hughes."

And with that, both girls leaned in and gave their favorite butler a kiss on his cheek.

"Gracious," he exclaimed. "Whatever was that for?"

Elsie gave him a sly wink. "Just our way of saying "thanks" for making us happy."

**A/N:** A little longer than the usual drabble. Sorry about that. Hope you enjoyed it and will leave me a review letting me hear your thoughts. HUGS!


	17. Look

**Look:**

She looks up from the table when she hears the key turn the lock in the door. She knows he is finally home after a long and, no doubt, trying day with Thomas. The lad is doing his best to learn the ropes of being the butler. Her husband is working very hard on keeping his patience with the young man, recognizing that Thomas is trying to make amends, trying to redeem himself, to make Mr. Carson proud.

Before he can enter their modest dining room, Elsie looks back at the table, inspecting everything in a glance. She wants it to be perfect, nothing out of place, a beautiful table to make him proud of her efforts. She is thankful she lit the candles only moments ago and doused the lights. She stands beside his chair, her fingertips lightly touching the back of it. The chair is as solid as she knows her husband to be.

She has prepared his favorite meal, the hearty stew he enjoys and the bread she has learned to bake. It gives her great pleasure to see him tuck into a meal, have second helpings, and to hear him praise her for her culinary skills. She has imagined this moment all day. She has planned the evening, hoping he will forget all about the Abbey, about Thomas, about everything but her … her and this wonderful meal and this new nightgown she has purchased recently.

Her heart beats a little faster, anticipating the look in his eyes, hoping she will see excitement and desire. She stands perfectly still, bathed in candlelight, surrounded by the aroma of a meal cooked with love, and her eyes are as dark as a stormy sky. Her nightgown is soft and white, silky. It clings to every curve of her body, accentuating her breasts, her hips. Her shapely legs, a product of years of walking up and down the stairs, peek out from beneath the knee-length gown. Her feet are bare, her hair cascades freely down her back. She hopes that when he looks at her, he sees a vision, he sees a happy woman who is deeply in love with her husband.

Charles is so happy to be home, to be able to relax. He has missed her terribly today. He never imagined that being away from their cottage, their loving home, her, would make his heart ache. He has thought about her all day, wondered what she was doing, how she was spending her time.

The closer he drew to the cottage, the faster he walked. All he could think of was pulling her into his arms, holding her close, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, kissing her slowly, softly. As he rounded the bend and stepped through the gate, he could see that there was very little light coming from inside the cottage. His heart sank. His lovely wife must have grown weary of waiting for him. She must have retired for the evening. No matter. He would still be able to hold her in his arms, whisper his loving words into her ear. Even as she sleeps, he knows she will hear him, sense his presence, understand everything he is saying, even the things he's not voicing.

He turns the key in the lock and opens the door, immediately sensing something is amiss. There is the smell of freshly baked bread, of stew. He thinks, for a moment, that she must have hoped he would return earlier than this. His heart sinks as he imagines her eating alone, waiting for him to return and finally giving up when her stomach growls.

He hangs up his hat and coat, kicks off his shoes and leaves them on the mat near the door. He will polish them tomorrow. He doesn't want to disturb her with his heavy footsteps, especially if she is already sleeping. Quietly, he walks through the house, but as he enters the dining room, he is halted in his tracks.

His breath hitches in his throat and a jolt of electricity surges through his body. His bride, his lovely wife, is standing by a candlelit table. Every sensuous curve of her body is accentuated. His fingers itch with the memory of his fingertips ghosting over her creamy skin, the soft plane of her belly, the fullness of her breasts. The light from the candles is dancing along her hair, highlighting the strands of auburn and silver as they mingle together.

He licks his lips, his throat suddenly dry. He feels a tightening of his trousers and can feel his heart racing. She is an absolute wonder to behold. His eyes quickly dart to the perfectly laid table and the food she has prepared for them, he thanks God for sending this beautiful woman into his life. She loves him, takes care of him, chastises him, encourages him, and is a perfect wife, lover, best friend. She is everything to him.

His eyes are drawn back to her, standing there biting on her lower lip. He has told her hundreds of times what that does to him, how she looks so sexy when she does that. She doesn't believe him, but he knows, in his heart, that it's true. He notices her nightgown and how it shimmers in the candlelight. He has never seen it before. He would remember such a lovely nightdress. He will remember to ask her where she bought it. He will definitely encourage her to buy another one, maybe two. Perhaps, he will ask if there are other items she might like to purchase, frilly things, lovely things, ones that will make her happy.

But despite the perfect table settings, the soft glow of the candles, the aroma of the stew and bread, even the silky nightgown, it is the look in her eyes that is his complete doing.

He is at her side in two great strides, his fingertips ghosting over her bare shoulder, sliding down her arm. He wraps his arm around her waist and draws her against him. Immediately, his lips capture hers in a passionate kiss, one that conveys so many emotions and thoughts, more than mere words are able to express.

In that one moment, a look is more than a thousand words, and a kiss, the kiss of a lover, is so much more treasured than gold.

**A/N:** Once again, I must thank you for your wonderful reviews. They keep me motivated and inspired!


	18. Summer

**Summer:**

Summer. It was the time of year for brighter colored clothes, lighter fabrics, and warm breezes. It was the time of year for blue skies, large, fluffy clouds in the sky, cool water lapping at toes as picnickers paddled in the water.

It was also a time for garden parties, planned to perfection, executed without any glitches. It also meant weeks spent in London, parties attended, parties hosted, elaborate meals, proposals, refusals, and all done within the confines of propriety and the rules of high society.

But for Charles Carson, summer meant something more, and he had only arrived at his epiphany on this very day. As he walked back from the village, Elsie's stamps in his left coat pocket, a bag of her favorite sweets secreted away in his right coat pocket, he let his mind wander.

He thought of those chilly winter nights he had spent cuddling with Elsie, speaking softly and sipping wine or sherry in front of the fire. He thought of the coolness of the sheets and the warmth of her body pressed against his. He remembered the amazing willpower it had taken him that first morning, after their honeymoon, to tear himself away from her embrace and to spend all day away from her while in the company of others.

He had promised her it would only be one year. One cycle of the calendar: four seasons, two birthday celebrations, one anniversary, one Christmas. That was all. He felt it would give them ample time to adjust to married life and to being viewed as a couple in the eyes of everyone they knew. It would give him time to make the transition from butler to husband, her from housekeeper to wife.

Now, though, as he walked back to the house, he began to imagine what life would be like if they were carefree.

For starters, they could sleep later, go to bed when they were tired, wake when they were well and truly rested. Breakfast could be at nine instead of seven, if they should choose. Elsie might wear her hair down and loose on occasion. He could ramble around their house in just a shirt and trousers … no coat, no tie, no starched collar.

They would also be free to wander about the village, take a spontaneous trip to London, to the seaside or to visit Becky. There would also be romantic picnics by the lake, moonlit strolls, stargazing. He could surprise her with tickets to a play she'd always wanted to see, treat her to a lovely dinner in Thirsk.

Evenings would be a much welcomed change. Instead of smaller beds, attic rooms with little ventilation, restrictive clothing, and thin walls, they would live differently. A large bed for them to comfortably share would take up a large portion of the space in their bedroom. Windows, which were covered with sheer white, gauzy curtains would remain open in the summer months, inviting the warm breeze to filter through their house, cooling it, caressing it with the scents of summer flowers and approaching rain. Nightdresses and pyjamas would be optional. The coolness of the sheets and the warmth of her body pressed against his skin would be the only things he would need. Desires and passions would be shared and vocalized freely without the worry of someone overhearing.

As he neared the house, Charles passed the meadow where the wildflowers were just beginning to bloom. He thought of his lovely bride, how she had made his life so much better in so many ways. He stopped and picked the prettiest blooms he could find in the field, creating a humble little bouquet, a simple one though laced with love and adoration.

Perhaps one year was a long time to wait, too long. Three seasons too many, two birthdays they could share in their own home, one anniversary they could celebrate anywhere they wanted, too many missed opportunities for a different way of life.

Entering the back door of Downton Abbey, Charles Carson made up his mind upon seeing the smile on his wife's face as he presented her with the flowers.

"Mrs. Carson, might I have a word?"

"Certainly. Come and find me when you want it."

"Is now a good time?"

"As good a time as any."

"I hope you will say that when you hear what I have to say." He would propose the idea of retirement to her … not in a year, not after four seasons had passed. No, he would propose a date … the first day of summer.


	19. Transformation

**Transformation:**

She stared at the woman in complete disbelief. How dare she show her face at Downton Abbey, or anywhere else for that matter? She had done nothing but destroyed the man and left him with a bruised and battered ego. It had taken decades for his heart to heal, for him to let go of his past and to embrace his future.

Now, on their wedding day, the woman dared to show her face, dared to enter the sacred church where all of their friends and family were gathered. She had no right to be here, had certainly not been invited to the happy occasion. But no matter. Elsie was determined to give the woman a piece of her mind.

She gave Charles a kiss and promised him she would return. Then, with a face like thunder, eyes darker than any storm clouds, and footsteps heavy with anger, Elsie marched up the aisle towards the woman standing in the doorway.

"Alice! Alice Neale?" she spat the words, as if they were bitter and foul in her mouth. "You are not wanted here. You've done your damage, but that's all behind us now," she announced proudly. "Charles has realized that the mistake was yours, not his, and he's moved on with his life. You've been packed away to the past, to a trunk in an attic in our new home. He has no need of you now."

Alice merely smiled at Elsie, a sickening smile, one of condescension and arrogance. "But he wanted to marry me so much he could taste it," she answered. "Has he ever said that to you, Elsie Hughes … spinster … ordinary woman … housekeeper … certainly not an entertainer or alluring to men of all ages?"

Elsie stood before Alice and tried desperately to rein in her emotions. No, Charles had never uttered those words to her. He had never called her alluring or claimed that she would have been wonderful on the stage. Then again, he had never accused her of being a spinster or an ordinary woman. Being a housekeeper, they both knew, was something of which Elsie could be proud.

But, he had professed his love to her in other ways, and she felt she had the best of Charles Carson. Elsie stood tall and proud, knowing the man waiting at the altar loved her with all his heart. "No, he's never said those words to me. Those were words uttered by a man blinded by a woman who did not deserve him, someone who could not see what she had within her grasp."

Alice scoffed. "Yes, a handsome man, Charles was … still is, but he never would have amounted to greatness. At best, he is only a butler, working for someone else, ruled by routine and order."

"He is a man greatly respected in the community, loved by everyone in this house and the village, admired in London, and now a man of means and property. He does not need the family to gift him a cottage or a pension. He has worked and earned his money, saved and stored for rainy days."

"Marrying for security and money, are you, Elsie Hughes?"

"Marrying for love, Alice. Unlike you, I recognized the _better man_, the one you hurt with your actions and words. I have stood by him through sickness and health, births and deaths, defeats and accomplishments. I love him and he loves me."

"Any man will tell a woman he loves her so he doesn't have to live alone and cook in his retirement years," Alice added with venom, clearly aware she was losing the battle with the Scottish dragon named Elsie Hughes.

"True, but Charles doesn't just say the words. He proves them." Elsie cast a glance towards the altar where Charles was patiently waiting. He gave her a warm smile and nodded so Elsie continued her discussion with Alice Neale. "He worried when he thought I might accept a proposal from a former suitor. He sang for me when he thought I was ill, even offered to take on more of my duties to lessen the burden on me. He nearly broke his heart and mine when he considered leaving Downton to help Lady Mary. He even made peace with Charlie Grigg … and buried your ghost along with it." Elsie gave a little smirk upon seeing the woman's face twist with embarrassment. "This same man asked me to marry him when he knew I had nothing of value to offer aside from myself and my love. He said he would never marry anyone else, and he bought a house for us together despite knowing whether or not I would accept his proposal. So you see, Alice, he may not love me the way he loved you, but I'd say he loves me with his all heart. That's all I've ever needed."

Alice looked at Elsie then shifted her gaze to Charles then back to Elsie. "There will always be a part of him that loves me," she spat bitterly.

"Perhaps, but whether or not he ever says the words, I know, in my heart, he is _in love_ with me and I am not some acquired memory. I am his present and future."

Alice raised her hand as if she was about to strike Elsie across the face. Just as Elsie anticipated the assault, she was jolted from her dream by a knock on her bedroom door.

"Elsie, it's Charles," he whispered. "It's time to rise and shine. It's our wedding day," he announced proudly.

She shot out of bed and dashed to the door, the emotions and scenes from her vivid dream still fresh in her mind. She placed her palm and cheek against the door. "You've not changed your mind, then, about marrying a housekeeper from Scotland?"

He chuckled on the other side of the door. "This old booby has not changed his mind at all. He's very much looking forwarding to making the transformation from butler to husband." Charles lowered his voice. "And what about you, my darling lass?"

"Of course I haven't changed my mind, you old booby. You send Beryl Patmore up here as soon as you get downstairs. Unlike you, my transformation from housekeeper to bride to wife is a bit more complicated. A woman needs the assistance of her best friend at a time like this."

Charles grinned, though Elsie could not see it. "There is one thing you should know, Elsie Hughes, before we meet at the altar, and I'm sorry for only saying this to you now."

Elsie felt a lump in her throat and a surge of nervous energy race through her. "What's that, Charles? You can tell me anything."

"This is going to be the happiest day of my entire life, and I love you with all my heart. I cannot wait to take you as my bride today."

A tear slipped down Elsie's cheek. It was as if he knew of her dream of Alice, of the demons she had wrestled with since learning of the woman's existence. "And I am so very happy to take you as my husband today, Charles Carson. I love you, too."

She heard him breathe a sigh of relief. "I will leave your breakfast tray here. Don't open the door until you hear me close the other door. Mrs. Patmore threatened me with life and limb if you saw me before the wedding," he teased. "See you at the church, Mrs. Hughes, soon to be Mrs. Carson."

"I shall be the one wearing white," she said with a laugh.

As soon as she heard the door close, Elsie opened her bedroom door to retrieve her breakfast tray. There, on the tray, was a beautiful red rose and a note in Charles's handwriting.

_To the woman who stole my heart away:_

_We leave Downton Abbey as the butler and housekeeper. _

_We leave the church as husband and wife. _

_I'm looking forward to making this transformation with you._

_All my love,_

_Charles_


	20. Tremble

**Tremble:**

He sees the tremble in his hands as he accepts the half empty glass of wine from the Dowager Countess. He can see the way the liquid gently shakes in keeping with the ripples he feels in his body. He knows she hasn't seen it. No one has, in fact. It is a slight tremor, but one that he can feel all the way to his bones.

When he is standing still, so very near to Mrs. Hughes, he feels the tremble again. This time, though, it is more pronounced, more earth-shattering. He believes, only for a moment, that it is his rapidly beating heart that is causing the little waves throughout his body. He quickly dismisses this as nonsense. He knows that is not likely nor is it possible.

She looks up at him and smiles and suddenly his whole body reacts. His heartbeat quickens, his mouth goes dry, his mind draws a blank. He returns her smile and notices, not for the first time, how her eyes remind him of the sea, of that day at Brighton. He feels excitement and nervousness wash over him like waves lapping at his ankles. Suddenly, his knees go a little weak, though he remains steady on his feet. Not long now until his moment will arrive. He knows, for certain, that the trembling will not go away anytime soon.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands. Large, strong hands which have cradled the most delicate china, sipped sherry from the daintiest crystal glasses, even cuddled the precious Crawley girls and their children, too. These same hands have written letters to Elsie during the long separations of the London Seasons, have twisted in anxiety over her health, have twitched with the notion of her leaving Downton, leaving him for a farmer from her past.

But, somehow, he knows that while those things are precious and priceless, even life altering, the most amazing thing he will ever hold, if he is lucky, will be her hand and her heart for the rest of their lives.

He looks back at her and knows this is the moment. Everyone is occupied with singing, and he knows they won't be missed, won't be interrupted. With a tremble in his voice to match the tremble in his hands, he leans over and whispers.

"Is this a good moment?"

"It is if you want it to be."

And suddenly, his body does not tremble any longer. His mind is clear. His heartbeat strong and steady. He knows that in a few moments, he will have said the words that have been eating away at him for weeks, years perhaps. He will offer her his hand. If she accepts, his hands will tremble for another reason … excitement, love, and passion.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all of your reviews and comments. Special thanks to DameofDownstairs on Tumblr for the artwork she's been providing for the stories and to CrazyMaryT for the idea for this prompt. You ladies are wonderful!


	21. Sunset

**Sunset:**

It is almost sunset here at the estate of Downton Abbey. I should know. I've seen more than my fair share of them. Sunrises usually sneak up behind me, but that's no matter. I feel the rays of the sun on me and it warms me. I have found, over my many decades here, that I prefer the sunsets. Why, you may ask? Well, it's quite simple.

There is nothing quite like watching the ending of the day, especially a sunny one. The sky is awash with vibrant colors. Oranges, reds, yellows, and sometimes pinks … they all combine to paint a glorious picture on the canvas of the never-ending sky. White clouds float effortlessly across the intense background, birds fill the sky as they make their way home, back to their nests for the evening. The stars start to appear, one by one, on a velvety blanket of darkness as the sun goes down.

But that is not why I prefer this time of day so much. You will, no doubt, think me silly when I confess to you that sunset is my favorite time of the day because I know they will be coming to visit me. They always do, unless of course it's raining. There hasn't been a day gone by yet, this summer season, when they've missed watching the sunset with me. Well, there was that one evening, though I heard them talking about an evening on the town. That must have been why they didn't visit that day.

I have seen many things over the course of my time here on the estate. I've weathered many storms, seen my share of happiness and tears. I've watched as the family hosted garden parties, bazaar's for the church, wedding processionals, funeral processionals, and just about everything in between. But, none of those things have compared to what I watched unfold this summer.

You see, the butler of this grand estate returned early from London, and began courting the housekeeper. I know this because he asked her to meet him here … my very bench. I've been so lucky to witness their love unfolding over the course of these last few days and weeks. My best friend, the tree that stands strong beside me, has offered them shelter on warm days while they rest upon me.

They have spoken of their love, of little notes left here and there for each other, outings they want to take before he has to return to London. I was fortunate to witness their first kiss. It has been wonderful to see their love blossoming. I hope that in time, I will also be fortunate enough to witness the butler proposing to the housekeeper here. They keep referring to me as "their bench" and that thought fills me with pride. To be claimed by two such lovely people who have chosen my sturdy frame to spend their courting hours is truly an honor.

As I stand here waiting, rather impatiently, I can hear them in the distance. Their voices are growing stronger as they walk nearer to me. She is laughing. He is, too. And from the looks of the sky, there is going to be a spectacular sunset for them this evening. I wonder if, perhaps, this might be the night the butler proposes to the housekeeper. Even if he doesn't, I won't mind. It will simply mean I will get another chance to offer my services to them tomorrow, to watch another day close while they kiss and cuddle without the prying eyes of others from the house.

I will remain here, in this very spot, keeping their secrets and watching as they fall in love day by day, one sunset at a time.


	22. Mad

**Mad:**

Spring had arrived and love was in the air. There was no question about that. Hall boys and maids were flirting more and more these days now that the long, dreary winter was over. There were talks of picnics, county fairs, and outings to the moving pictures. There were little notes being passed in the hallways and lingering looks shared over meals at the servant's table. Blushes and giggles from the girls, whispered sentiments from the lads … an overall happy atmosphere was palpable downstairs.

Elsie Carson had made it her business to notice these things. She gently reminded her maids of the dangers of falling for pretty words and empty promises. She encouraged Charles to have a similar talk with his footmen. Scandal brought about because of carelessness would do none of them, the couple or the house, any good. Still, Elsie was always careful to allow the younger staff their time for courting and fun. Keeping them locked away in the house would only drive them towards the forbidden. She had seen it happen too often during her time in service.

Even so, Elsie had to admit that even she was feeling more and more like a young lass in love these days. She had married for love, and Charles Carson was a man in every sense of the word. He loved his wife and reminded her of that daily, in big and small ways. Nights were filled with loving caresses, passionate lovemaking, tender cuddles, and heartfelt sentiments whispered against bare skin.

She had just returned from the village on this beautiful spring day. Everywhere she looked, there were little things that made her happy, made her heart sing. Flowers randomly blooming in a field, birds flying overhead in their mating rituals, squirrels chasing one another around the tree, and even the young couples in the village … everything seemed to scream life and rebirth and joy.

With her heart full, Elsie dropped off her packages in her sitting room then went in search of her husband. She knew exactly where he would be at this time of day. He was, if nothing else, a man of routine. He would be locked away in his pantry going over the guest list for the party the family was hosting the next day. He would want to make certain that everything was in order in case last minute adjustments were needed. Deciding that her husband needed a little break, Elsie slipped into his office.

The sight that greeted her was not a happy one. His brow was furrowed. His lips were drawn into a thin line. His left hand was rubbing his temple, no doubt indicating an impending headache or one that had fully taken over. Even his shoulders were set in a tight line, the tension having taken over and added to his discomfort. Quietly, she turned the lock and decided it was time he had a break.

Her hands were cool and comforting as she guided his head back to rest against her stomach, his head resting just beneath her breasts. Her fingertips ghosted over his eyes, encouraging him to close them, which he readily obliged. She dropped a kiss to his forehead as she began to massage his temples and his jaws, releasing the stress and tension he was holding there. The only sound in the room was his contented sighs as he felt his body beginning to relax.

Without any warning, Elsie's hands slipped around Charles's neck, and she deftly removed his tie and starched collar before he had a chance to truly protest. She was working on the buttons of his shirt before he came to his senses, remembering that they weren't at home in their cottage but at work.

"Elsie Carson … have you gone mad? What are you doing?"

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Making you more comfortable, dear. You've been working much too hard, and it's starting to show," she said with a gentle nip to his ear.

"You can't be serious. Elsie, it's the middle of the day and we're in my office. What if someone needs me … or you … and they find me in a state of undress?"

"They won't," she assured him. "I locked the door and everyone knows this is your quiet time of the day. Everyone else thinks I'm still in the village. I assure you, we're completely safe." As she continued to reassure him, she encouraged him to sit up so she could slip off his jacket then his shirt. "Mmm, much better," she said, running her hands over his shoulders and chest. Her lips caressed his neck causing him to moan softly, ever mindful that there could be someone just outside his door.

"Elsie, love, this is mad. You shouldn't be … ohhh … doing this," he protested weakly. His entire body was on fire, and he wanted nothing more than to take her up on her offer … whatever she was offering.

"I'm going to be mad if you don't stop talking" she threatened with a gleam in her eyes. "It's not every man that's lucky enough to have a wife who wants to tend to her husband's every need." She slipped around the chair and slid to her knees in front of him, quickly working on the fastenings of his belt and trousers. Just as her hand was slipping inside to touch him there was a loud knock on the door.

"Mr. Carson, might I have a word?"

Momentarily startled, Charles woke with a start. He looked down to find that he was all alone in his office, his wife calling to him from the other side of the locked door. With some difficulty, Charles walked to the door and opened it just enough for Elsie to slip inside.

With no warning, he pushed Elsie against the door and captured her lips with his in a heated kiss, pressing his body against hers and moving suggestively while his hands roamed freely over her body, letting her know exactly what he needed.

"Charles … mmmm, have you gone … mad?" she gasped. "Not that I'm complaining," she assured him as his lips latched onto a spot beneath her ear.

He rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breathing heavy to match hers. "Let's go home … now," he pleaded. "I don't want to wait another minute to be alone with you."

"We can't do that, Charles. The Dowager is coming for dinner, and you know she will be looking for you and not Thomas."

"If we don't go now, I'll go mad by the time we get home," he countered as his lips grazed her throat.

Elsie grinned, both from his attentions and from the idea that just popped into her head. "Meet me in the bicycle shed in five minutes. I promise to make it worth your while, Mr. Carson," she said with a seductive tone to her voice.

"Make it three and you've got a deal, Mrs. Carson."

She slipped from his office, thinking that the springtime was definitely a maddening time, for the young and the young at heart.

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all the reviews and comments. I really appreciate the feedback! You guys always brighten up my day!


	23. Thousand

**Thousand:**

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. This one is a little more spicy than the previous chapters! **

She'd lost count. Somewhere along the way, her mind had deserted her and her attention shifted from the numbers in her head to something else, something better. She had been trying to very hard to pay attention, but it had become increasingly difficult. She sighed sweetly, contentedly. She hadn't expected to be affected so deeply. After all, it wasn't as if this was the first time he had challenged her in this way.

She thought that perhaps it was the slight variation to the challenge that had caused her to lose her concentration. The darkness had surely heightened her other senses, made her more aware of everything surrounding her. In the past, she had been able to see things … objects, reflections, shadows. Now, all that she could see when she opened her eyes was darkness.

She could still sense his presence and feel his touch on her skin, though. He was always so attentive and tender, such a gentle lover. This had been his idea, one his fantasies that he had dared to share with her. He had told her he had always dreamed of bathing her in kisses, watching her shift and moan beneath him as his lips and tongue drove her over the edge with just the briefest and simplest of touches. At first, she had laughed, scoffed at the idea of it being possible. She had bravely declared that she was too much in control of her body and mind to be driven to such a state with mere kisses.

But, then, she had seen the look on his face, the darkening of his eyes. She knew that he was serious. His fantasy was real, and it took a great deal for him to share it with her … unbidden, unforced, given freely to her without any reservations. She had caressed his cheek and kissed his lips. "Do your best, Mr. Carson," she had purred. "Let's see if you can reach one hundred before you grow tired?"

That day, he had surpassed all of her wildest expectations. No part of her body was left wanting. He had kissed her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet and everywhere in between. Her one duty had been to count each kiss, to keep track of the number. However, she had lost count as his lips grazed the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her breath had hitched, her body had cried out, and she took control of the rest of the afternoon. She had to admit, later that day, as she stretched out on top of him, that he had, indeed, met the hundred mark … several times over … before she had given in to her desires.

The next few times they had played in this manner, Elsie had used her other senses to delay the inevitable. She would focus on the ticking of the clock on the mantle, the odd shapes their shadows made on the walls, the scent of the candles or the logs on the fire … anything to keep her from tumbling over the edge. The idea had served her well in more ways than one. Charles has been frustrated at first, thinking he was, in fact, losing his touch and that Elsie was growing bored. She had assured him that it was more for her benefit than his, her wanting to prolong the pleasure, the sensations before giving in to him and what they both wanted. She left him with no doubts in his mind that she loved his kisses, his touch, and that it was such an overwhelming sensation that she truly wanted to enjoy every second of it.

Today, Charles and Elsie had decided to stay home. Their errands in the village could wait another day. Nothing was more important than where they were and what they were doing at this very moment. She moaned deeply as his lips touched the dip at her lower back as his fingertips ghosted across the smooth plane of her shoulder blades and drifted down her sides. Was that kiss number nine hundred ninety-nine or was it a thousand? Could it be possible he had managed to surpass the thousand mark by leaps and bounds or had he simply distracted her to the point of not knowing or caring anymore? The silky band of cloth across her eyes had been his idea. He had thought it might arouse her further. Not knowing where the next kiss would land or where his lips would linger would leave her guessing, would certainly heighten her senses. And he had been correct. Elsie would gladly admit that his idea, his fantasy, had proven to be one of her personal favorites.

A thousand, then … that was the new mark he had set for them. She rolled onto her back and grinned up at her husband as he removed the blindfold and kissed her soundly on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around him and holding him tightly. "You have certainly set the bar high, Mr. Carson. I'm afraid I shall need a bit to recover," she sighed happily.

Charles snuggled into her embrace, content with having pleasured his wife until she was well and truly sated. "Take all the time you need. After all … practice makes perfect," he said, his voice rumbling through her body despite the softness of his tone. "Besides, the way I'm feeling right now, I wouldn't last much beyond the first hundred or so kisses," he chuckled.

"I dare say I could make you lose control with less than a hundred, Charles. Remember … the key to winning is the timing and placement of the caress," she said, arching into his embrace, reminding him of just how lucky he was to be married to a fiery Scottish lass who never backed down from a challenge.


	24. Outside

**Outside:**

"OUT! Outside with you this instant, Mr. Carson!" Elsie rarely raised her voice to her husband but this time he deserved it. He hadn't been home two minutes and had already tracked mud and whatever else was on the bottom of his shoes across her freshly mopped floor.

"Elsie, I can't go back outside. I need a hot bath and some clean clothes," he said pleadingly.

"You should have thought of that before tracking mud across my clean floor."

"How was I supposed to know that you were mopping today or that I'd be this filthy when I returned?" He gave her his best imploring look, silently begging her to understand his predicament.

"I would have thought that would have been a given when your Lady Mary convinced you to help her with the pigs today. Honestly, from being an expert on wine to knowing a thing or two about pigs … I hope you're well versed in the ways of a mop and a bucket of water," she growled, her hands on her hips and her lips drawn into a fine line.

It wasn't really the fact that Charles had tracked mud across her clean floor or the fact that he was standing there covered in muck from head to toe. Elsie was angrier at the fact that they had made plans to take a picnic down by the lake but when Lady Mary had beckoned, he had postponed their picnic for the following day and Elsie had stayed behind to clean the house.

Charles easily sensed this was a battle he was not going to win. "What do you propose I do about the situation, then, Elsie? I'm not allowed in our home. I willingly admit that I need to mop the floor for you. I need a bath and fresh clothes, both of which are upstairs. And you're ordering me to go outside."

Elsie suddenly had a thought and her lips curled into a wicked grin. "There's the large basin of water by the roses. You can wash off in there, and I will bring out a towel and your robe. You can come inside, then, and dress before you mop the kitchen for me."

"You can't be serious! Take a bath outside … in the basin? In the nude?"

"Unless you have a better suggestion that doesn't involve walking through the house, then yes, I'm serious, and that's exactly what I'm saying." She watched as his mouth opened and closed several times as if preparing to counter her suggestion but he finally gave in. "Oh, go on! It's not like you haven't been naked outside before. I had rather hoped we might go skinny dipping at the lake, but you had to go offer pig advice to Lady Mary Crawley."

"Let's leave that discussion for later, hmmm? Besides, it was less about the pigs and more about their housing. She remembered that my father helped build the stables and they're still standing. She wanted my opinion on making the pig styes sturdier."

"Well, I can certainly see how that was so important that you had to cancel your plans with your wife," she spat as she turned her back towards him and began walking back to the kitchen.

Before she could get very far, Charles crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind, drawing her flush against his muddy clothes, his lips already seeking that special spot below her ear.

Elsie gasped as the sudden surprise. "Charles Carson! What are you doing? Now you'vegone and made me dirty as well! My dress will have to be washed, too," she grumbled.

He smirked against her neck and whispered softly into her ear. "Guess that means you'll be joining me for that little outside bath in the basin, then."

"My clothes are dirty, Charles, not my body. I can change them. You, on the other hand, even have dirt in your hair, smudges across your face, and your hands … just look at them," she said, pulling them from around her waist and holding them out in front of her. "You're going to need a good scrub in that tub. I bet you even have mud behind your ears."

"Care to come outside and make sure your big boy washes behind those ears?" His voice was low and seductive, washing away her anger and frustration with each word. "I know I don't deserve it, but I would certainly love an extra pair of hands to help me get clean." He nipped at her ear lobe and tightened his arms around her once more. "I'll make it worth your time and troubles," he promised.

She turned in his arms and kissed him lightly on the lips. "You certainly will … and you will mop the floor!" She pinched his bottom and gave it a little pat. "Now, OUTSIDE and out of these clothes! I'll just nip upstairs for towels, soap, and robes."

"Yes, Mrs. Carson. You always do know what's best," he answered with a cheeky grin.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll start thinking of ways to make up this day to me. I missed out on a lovely lakeside picnic with my husband."

"Ah, but if you hadn't missed the lake, you'd wouldn't have the opportunity to take a long bath outside with me."

"On second thought, why don't you go and rinse off, get most of that mud off you before you slip into the basin. We can spend more time in the tub and enjoy it more if we're not covered in that filth."

"Bring a bottle of wine and two glasses with you, and I promise to have washed thoroughly so not a speck of dirt mars your beautiful body."

Elsie shook her head and grinned. "Cheeky devil! Get outside or we'll both regret it."

"I love you, Elsie," he called back over his shoulder as he headed for the back door.

"I love you, too, Charles … you dirty, flirty, man."

**A/N:** Thanks for your overwhelming response to these drabbles. Your reviews, likes, favorites, and reblogs have been amazing. A special shout out to guest reviewers! I would love to respond and personally say thank you, but since I can't … THANK YOU!


	25. Winter

**Winter:**

The winter had been a harsh one. More snowfall than either of them could remember, bitter temperatures that nipped at the skin leaving it read and chapped if too much time was spent outdoors, aches and pains from old injuries even flared as winter reared its' head … all those things and more had plagued them this season.

Still, Charles and Elsie did their best to make the most of it. They no longer had to make that journey to the Abbey. Retiring at the end of the summer season had been one of their best decisions. Now, they could spend lazy mornings in bed, snuggled together beneath warm blankets, while Old Man Winter did his worst. Or they could simply lounge together on their sofa, watching as the snowflakes fell past the window, covering their world in a blanket of white at the end of the day.

This particular evening, Elsie was sitting on one end of their sofa while Charles rested his head in her lap. His walk into the village for supplies before the winter storm hit had chilled him to the bone. Elsie worried, silently, that he might be on the verge of taking a cold, so she had wrapped him in their warmest woolen blanket and encouraged him to rest. She had stoked the fire, placed a large log on it, and was now running her hands through his black and silver hair as she read.

Charles had teased her when she had purchased this particular book weeks ago. Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass_ had been an unexpected choice for Elsie. Her normal choice of books tended to be mystery, history, or the occasional romance. She had stopped him quite firmly when she told him that Miss Sybbie had been telling her about the story, and she had promised the child she would read it.

The warmth of the fire and the soothing sounds of her husband's rhythmic breathing had Elsie on the verge of nodding off to sleep. She had been on the same page for several minutes, not really comprehending the words. Charles had, in his sleep, brought Elsie's hand to his lips, and was holding it firmly in his grasp.

She was just about to close the book and wake Charles when a particular passage caught her eyes.

"_I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again." *_

She smiled as she read the passage again, the beauty of the words striking a chord in her heart. She marked the page so she could share that particular bit with Charles the following day. There was something peaceful and romantic about the description of the falling slow and the white quilt, the trees and fields being kissed so lovingly and tenderly.

Her gaze landed on her sleeping husband, wrapped up in the warm blanket, sleeping peacefully. She leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his head and stroked his cheek. "Sleep, my darling love. My love will keep you warm this winter … and for the rest of our lives," she whispered softly.

* The quote is from _Lewis Carroll, __Alice's Adventures in Wonderland &amp; Through the Looking-Glass._

**A/N:** Apologies for the pause in my daily posting. Birthday celebrations and guests have a way of distracting me. Tee hee Hope you will continue to enjoy and review as I complete the "February" Chelsie Challenge.


	26. Diamond

**Diamond:**

He hadn't forgotten. In fact, he had toyed with the idea for over a week. There was a crumpled sheet of paper in his waste paper basket that detailed the pros and cons. There were also several rudimentary sketches of what he wanted, what he thought she might want, what he could afford, what she deserved.

Elsie was a practical woman. She would tell him not to worry, that she didn't need frivolous things. He smiled as her Scottish tones sounded in his head, her little smile appearing before his mind's eye. She would reassure him and say that all she needed was him, his love, his support, his hand to keep her steady.

Assuming, of course, that she accepted his proposal of marriage. He still had to formally ask her the most important question of his life. He had thought his idea of buying a property together would be a stepping stone, of sorts. He assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that Elsie would be thrilled with the idea, that they would fall happily into a new relationship, and from that, he would feel easier about proposing marriage. But, that had not been the case.

Instead of embarking on a new relationship, Charles found that, together, they were deepening the relationship that already existed. There was no need for a new start. Elsie had opened her heart to him and told him her deepest secret, her heaviest burden, and he had accepted the responsibility of keeping that secret safe, of sharing that burden with her. He had also come to understand that she deserved more than just the notion of investing in a property together.

He loved her. Of that, there could never be any doubts. He loved Elsie, not because of her status in the house or out of some pity he might feel for her circumstances. He had loved her long before he knew of her sister or her financial straits. She challenged him in spectacular ways, made him laugh, comforted him even when her own heart was breaking. She had shown him, in countless ways, that she loved him, too.

It was those thoughts rambling around in his mind that helped him make his decision. He would ask for her hand in marriage, not out of obligation or pity but out of a heart filled with love and adoration. If she said yes, he would explain his lack of a diamond ring. He would tell her the reasons why he hadn't purchased one for her already. He would explain himself, and she would understand. She always did. He thought she knew him better than he knew himself.

He would vow to take her to a jewelry shop on their next half day. He would buy her the ring of her choice. Diamond. Sapphire. Ruby. Emerald. Whatever she would be proud to wear as a symbol of his unending love and devotion, he would be proud to buy for her. He would also look around for a simple broach to buy for her as a wedding gift to wear on their special day. A little diamond butterfly, perhaps, or a luckenbooth set in silver. Regardless of what she chose, it would give him great pleasure to slip that ring onto her finger before God and their witnesses.

With that matter settled in his mind and heart, his next task didn't seem quite so daunting. He would ask her on Christmas Eve … if he could wait just two more days.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading the little chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Only a few more chapters to go before I've completed the challenge. Yay!


	27. Letters

**Letters:**

"What do you have there, love?" Charles stepped into the attic room and slipped his arm around his wife, peering over her shoulder after kissing her cheek.

"A box," she replied cheekily.

"I can see that, Elsie. I meant … what's inside the box?"

She leaned back against his solid frame, enjoying the newly found closeness they shared since they had married. "Just some old things I have kept over the years. Bits and bobs."

Charles's mind began racing with all sorts of questions. Was she trying to hide the box? Why was she being so vague? What sort of things would be important enough to keep in an attic box?

Not feeling incredibly confidant, he pressed her again for an answer. "I didn't know bits and bobs were worth keeping these days," he said with a nervous laugh. "I thought we were more about the here and now, the future, progress and innovations."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Did you come up here for a reason or to just spy on me? I'm trying to pack up the last of the trunks so the lads can move them to the cottage tomorrow." She placed the box on the floor and turned in her husband's arms, wrapping hers around his neck and pushing herself closer to him. "I thought you were supposed to be overseeing the menu cards for this evening. Beryl says we have a full house this evening with the Dowager, Mrs. Crawley, Lord Merton, Lady Rose and Mr. Aldridge, and the rest of the family."

"I thought it was a good idea to leave that to Thomas. It's time he stepped up and started taking on more and more of the duties of butler, especially if he wants to step into my shoes."

"Darling," she whispered against his lips, "there isn't a soul on this earth who could slip into your shoes." She kissed him softly and sweetly, enjoying the stolen moments alone with Charles. When she pulled back, she rubbed her nose against his and patted his chest. "I know he's not your favorite person in the world, Charles, but I do think he's trying to change. Miss Baxter has been a good friend to him, and I think he's learning to appreciate her."

"He still has a lot to learn if he wants to be a successful butler, especially under this roof."

"And you can only do so much for him. Tutor him like you did Alfred. Try to be a little more patient. He's had a hard life, granted most of it has been of his own actions and choices. Think how different he might have been had he befriended Anna instead of Miss O'Brien?"

Charles chuckled at the thought. "Yes, think of all the possibilities!"

Elsie smacked his chest playfully. "Oh, go on! I have work to do and so do you, Mr. Carson. I'll be down shortly if you'd like to join me in a cup of tea while we wait on dinner to be served."

"I'd love to join you, Mrs. Carson. If you're quick about it, I might have it waiting for you when you reach your sitting room. I'll even see if I can steal a few biscuits from the kitchen. That's just the sort of loving husband I am. Aren't you lucky?"

She laughed and shook her head. "I am incredibly lucky to be married to the most handsome, thoughtful, romantic butler in all the land. However did I get so fortunate?"

He nodded his head towards the box on the floor. "Not by bits and bobs," he teased before leaving her with her cluttered mess.

Elsie took the box and cradled it to her chest. If only he knew what was lovingly stored inside. A bit of ribbon from a bouquet of flowers he'd once given her for her birthday. The wrapping paper from the first Christmas gift from Charles. The advertisement for the new housemaid when she had been promoted to housekeeper. The cork from their first shared bottle of wine. And those were just a few of her bits and bobs.

The most important and cherished possessions, though, were the letters. Every single letter Charles had written to her was stored inside this box. Every note, scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper, every lengthy epistle from London detailing the delights of the English aristocracy, the heartfelt appreciation for her help during a difficult period in his life or the life of the house. She kept them all as reminders, little mementos of their friendship which turned into love.

With the box held securely in her arms, Elsie left the attic in search of her husband. Perhaps it was time to share with him her lifetime of acquired memories. Together, sitting in bed at the end of this long day, they could make their way through the box. It might be quite lovely to hear his velvety voice reading the letters to her. If she was lucky, it might inspire him to write little love letters to her. She would, of course, have to buy another box … one that she would keep on her vanity table or beside her bed. In fact, she might just purchase two boxes … one for his letters to her and one for her letters to him.

Little did Elsie know or realize, but Charles had a similar box tucked away in his attic trunk, a box filled with bits and bobs from Elsie Hughes … his greatest friend, his largest supporter, the love of his life.

**A/N:** Real life has kept me busy recently but please know that I have cherished each and every review and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me. Only a few prompts/updates left and this challenge will be completed. HUGS ALL AROUND!


	28. Promise

**Promise:**

She held on tightly, as if her life depended on it. Her knuckles had already turned white from the fierceness of her grip, and her voice was a little shaky when she spoke.

"Charles, promise me, you won't let me go."

"I promise, darling. I've got you and you're safe."

She scoffed at his words. "I don't feel very safe at the moment."

He leaned into her side and kissed her temple, his strong arms around her waist and gently easing her into his side … as much as he could. "I promise you, Elsie, that I won't let anything happen to you. You're as safe as the Wedgewood china in the cabinet at the house. Don't you trust me?"

She smiled and caressed his cheek tenderly. "I trust you with my life, my darling husband. It's just that I'm a little scared. What if I fall? I could break something and at my age, that would take ages to heal? Or worse, I could hurt myself and you in some way. Then, we'd both be homebound because of this silliness."

He shook his head. "For someone who can skillfully ride a horse, I don't see what all the fuss is about?"

She swatted his arm and gave him a glaring look. "A horse is responsible for his own balance on four legs. You've put me on this tiny little seat, two wheels beneath me, two bars to help me keep control of this contraption, and then you want me to balance it all while flying down the driveway!"

Charles laughed loudly, startling a nearby squirrel who ran up a tree and peered down at the couple from the safety of his high branch. "Might I remind you, my sweet girl, that this was all your idea in the first place? You said … and I quote …"

"Yes, yes, I know what I said and don't you dare repeat it. I remember what I said to you last night and those were completely different circumstances," she said, a deep blush infusing her cheeks. "I didn't think you'd take that comment and apply it to learning to ride a bicycle … at my age."

"Darling, you can do anything in the world that you put your mind to. I have no doubts about that. If you truly don't want to learn to ride a bicycle, I won't pressure you. If you want to try, I promise … I swear … I won't let any harm come to you. I'll be right by your side every step of the way."

She gave him a brilliant smile, warmed by the sincerity of his words and the truth behind his promise. "Will you hold my hand and keep this bicycle steady?"

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. "I will even draw you a bath and give you a massage later as a reward for your valiant efforts, your courage, and your success." He closed the remaining distance between them and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"And if I learn to ride, what would you like me to teach you as my way of saying thank you?"

Charles gave her a little smirk and a wink. "We can discuss the terms of my payment later … over a nice bottle of wine and a long soak in the tub."

"Is that a promise?" she purred against his lips.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing them against the back of her hand, then her palm, and finally her wrist. "It is if you want it to be."

"Let's get this lesson started. Suddenly, I'm feeling very eager to learn how to ride a bicycle …and to paying my handsome instructor."


	29. Simple

**Simple:**

**Simple.** He had asked for a light breakfast … two slices of toast, a bit of grape jam, some apple juice and strong tea. Mrs. Patmore, instead, cooked him a full meal, complete with potatoes, sausages, grilled tomatoes, eggs, and toast. It was a feast fit for a king or a groom on his wedding day.

**Simple.** Elsie hadn't wanted to make a fuss. She would pin up her hair in the usual manner. She could manage it all by herself. She'd been styling her own hair since she was a young lass back in Scotland. She had, of course, moved with the time and styles … picking up a few things from the latest fashions. But today, her wedding day, she felt that simple was best. No need to try something new which might not look flattering. But, Anna had other thoughts. It should be soft and flowing, curls and elegant twists. A simple hairstyle wouldn't do for a bride on her wedding day.

**Simple.** They had decided to wear their Sunday best, but Charles had overheard a conversation between Beryl and Elsie one evening. His lovely bride-to-be had stressed that she did not need a white gown or a new suit. She would find something in her wardrobe, something other than a black dress. Beryl had not agreed with her friend's decision nor had Charles, though he was careful not to vocalize his objections. Two days later, a bolt of pretty pale blue cloth was delivered to Elsie's sitting room. Miss Baxter had told a little white lie … that it had been delivered by mistake and they were told to keep it. She offered to quickly sew a new dress for the wedding, nothing elaborate, something simple but fitting a bride, something new and blue. Elsie agreed with a happy and grateful heart.

**Simple.** Two wedding bands in the finest silver. Charles had polished them every day since he had purchased them. He had offered to buy Elsie a diamond or any other precious gem that she desired. She had declined saying a simple band had served her parents well in their happy marriage. She should need nothing more than a token of his love and his promise to cherish her for the rest of their days. He had vowed then and there to see that his wife never wanted for anything, and that she felt his love every single day through his words and deeds.

**Simple:** Despite the initial surprise at the offer, Charles and Elsie graciously accepted the Dowager Countess's suggestion that the flowers used for the wedding be clipped from her own gardens. She had always been rather fond of Carson and Mrs. Hughes, so she said it gave her pleasure to be able to contribute in some small way to their wedding. As Charles and Elsie strolled through the lavish gardens speaking with the gardener, they decided on something simple. Blue hydrangeas and white roses with a few springs of Bells of Ireland thrown in for greenery. Charles would wear a simple white rose on his lapel. The Dowager Countess was most pleased with their choices and commended Elsie on her choices.

**Simple.** The small reception after the wedding vows were exchanged was to be a small affair. No lavish dinner. No long receiving line. No first dance or lengthy speeches. They wanted the evening to be enjoyable for everyone. Charles would simply thank everyone for their efforts in making this a memorable day, would express his gratitude to the family on their behalf for allowing the servants the time away from their duties to attend the service and reception. His words would be eloquent, though the sentiments behind it simple. We are blessed. We are grateful. We are fortunate.

**Simple.** The events of the day have been wonderful. Despite their simplicity, a more beautiful wedding could have not been imagined. The love shared between the butler and housekeeper was palpable. From the adoring look in his eyes to the sparkle shining in hers, it was a perfect wedding day. Now, as they ready for bed, they are preparing to cross that final barrier between them. It will start with a simple kiss, a light caress, softly spoken words. Humble in nature but profound in purpose. At the end of this glorious day, their wedding day, Charles and Elsie will become one. They will go from being a simple man and a simple woman to being a loving, married couple.

It was as **simple** as that.

**A/N:** Thanks for all of the reviews! You guys are wonderful. Only one more chapter to go (tomorrow) and then we will bid goodbye to this drabble series. It has been great fun, and I hope you've enjoyed it as much as me. HUGS!


	30. Future

**Future:**

**Past:**

Argyll. The Cheerful Charlies. Life on a farm. Time on the stage. The past had been Joe Burns, Alice Neal and Charlie Grigg. It had been her cancer scare and his near heart attack. It had been the Spanish flu, Sybil Branson's tragic death, and The Great War, not to mention a pregnant house maid and the transformation of the house into a convalescent home and back again.

The past had been composed of a symphony of shared confidences, little moments over wine and sherry, telling looks cast over meals, whispered words spoken in the hallways. The past was where their friendship began. It started to grow and flourish over the years, through all of the hardships of life, through all of the changes brought on by the march of time.

**Present:**

Happiness. Joy. Wedded bliss. That is what makes up the present. Friendship had blossomed slowly into love during recent years, months, weeks. The love shared by close friends, best friends, has morphed into something deeper, something more meaningful. The present is where banns are read in church on a Sunday morning, where friends offer heartfelt congratulations, where plans are made for a small, simple wedding. The present is where the past meets the reality of the moment, where two paths converge to form a new one.

To be more precise, the present is Charles and Elsie curled into each other in a lover's embrace. Both completely sated, truly happy for the first time in their lives. The present is tangled sheets, mussed hair, entwined limbs, and a cottage to call their own. It is living in the moment, each moment of this special day. Tomorrow, they will look at their rumpled wedding attire and the leftover cake from their reception and smile. Today will be remembered, cherished, and celebrated for the rest of their lives. Today marks the beginning of the future.

**Future: **

The future will arrive with the striking of the clock at midnight, tonight and every night afterwards, just as it has since the dawn of creation. The soft chimes will denote the passing of their wedding day and usher in their first day of married life. It will bring with it the first good morning kiss, the first time they make love before rising from the bed, the first breakfast cooked together, even if it is simply toast, jam, and tea.

The future will also mean changes. Charles will be reluctant at first, though with Elsie's steadying hand, he will embrace the alterations to his routine, his ordered way of life. He will learn to share his innermost thoughts, his living space, his bed. He will love being able to share every part of his life with her, his one true love. He understands and loves the fact that Alice is his past and Elsie is his present and future.

Elsie, on the other hand, will relish the modifications to the repetitive nature of her life. She has waited so long for this moment, thought he would never ask. But he did, and now she is a happily married woman. She knows he is a loving, gentle man. She has seen his tenderness, witnessed his heartbreak, heard his jubilation at her good news, and has observed his nervousness when proposing they share a future.

Together, they will pack up their belongings at Downton Abbey, though it is still too early to tell how soon that will be. There is still a lot of life and wisdom to be offered to their charges, lessons to be taught and learned, a few more scratches to polish from the silver. Regardless, they will greet each day with hope and love, knowing that their futures are now entwined. And the future has never looked so bright and so enticing.

In the past, retirement means boredom, uselessness, a wasting away of the mind and spirit.

In the present, retirement means a fear of the unknown, uncharted waters, no comfort of a routine.

In the future, retirement means excitement and adventure, new experiences, a Pandora's Box of feelings, emotions, and love. It means unbridled joy as fingertips ghost over heated skin, as lips graze a sensitive spot, as all thoughts and worries flee from the mind and are replaced by sensations too intense to be ignored.

Charles draws Elsie deeper into his arms as he stares down into her face. She is just waking, though it is still the middle of the night.

"I love you, Elsie Carson." His voice is deep and soft, like a warm blanket on a chilly evening.

She stretches and rubs her leg against his, pressing her lips to his bare chest. "I love you, too, Charles Carson." She leans up and captures his lips with hers, pouring her love into the kiss as the clock strikes midnight … the first day of their future together has just begun.

**A/N:** A heartfelt thank you to everyone (signed and guest) who took the time to read and review the story. You've made this challenge fun for me, and I appreciate it. This is the last prompt, and I am proud to say I completed the challenge (albeit a little late). Lol A SPECIAL THANKS to DameofDownstairs (on Tumblr) for her amazing artwork for the chapters. She worked at lightning speed to draw something to represent each prompt and I cannot thank her enough! HUGS all around!


	31. Decisions

**Decisions, Decisions**

Nervously, they stand at the foot of the bed holding hands, looking at it as if it's an entirely new invention. They're both a little unsure of how to proceed. Neither of them has shared a bed in their adult life, and it's not something they talked about during their engagement.

It is Charles that finally breaks the silence. He turns and faces Elsie, takes her free hand in his, and gives them a loving squeeze. "I love you, Elsie, and I want you to know that I would never …"

She shakes her head and smiles as she interrupts him. "I know. I love you, too, and I very much want … I have dreamed …" She stops abruptly, still a little shy about speaking of such intimate matters with her new husband. They've been married only a few hours and suddenly their lives have been irrevocably altered for the better.

"I've had dreams, too, my girl, and all of them about you," he says softly. He drops her hand and reaches up to cup her cheek, stroking his thumb lightly across her lips. Slowly, as if to give her time to pull away, he lowers his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly, and draws her flush against his solid frame.

She slips into his arms easily, as if she's been seeking refuge there for years. He is warm and soft, inviting. He is her husband, now, and she can relish the feel of his arms around her, his scent surrounding her, their breaths mingling. She sighs sweetly as his lips part from hers, leaving her wanting more, the fires of passion having been fanned a little.

She is not timid, like some young lass still naïve about the ways of the world, but she is still unsure how to proceed. There has never been such an awkward moment between them such as this. Her mind is filled with questions.

_Should I slip onto the bed? Should I wait for him to make a move? Should I begin to undress or do I wait? And what about his clothing? He said he wanted … but what exactly does he want and dream of for our marriage?_

He can almost read her thoughts, see the questions as they float through her mind, play out across her face. He struggles with how to answer her, deciding at the last minute that the straightforward approach might be less awkward in the long run.

"Which side do you prefer, Mrs. Carson?"

The simplicity of his question sets her mind spinning. She is almost certain she did not hear him correctly. "Pardon?"

He nods his head towards the bed. "Which side do you prefer," he asks again.

"Oh, I see. Having slept in a single bed for all of my adult life, I'm not sure that's a fair question, Mr. Carson," she answers teasingly. "What about you? Which side do you prefer?"

"You mean beds have a side?" he says, laughing at his own joke, feeling the tension ebbing and flowing away from them.

Elsie's laughter rings through the room, and she loops her arm through his, resting her head against him. "I'd think the appropriate answer for both of us would be … the middle … since that's all we've ever known."

Charles turns his head and drops a kiss into her hair. "Well, then, Mrs. Carson, it would seem we have reached our first decision as a married couple, our first compromise, if you will. So, I shall ask again … which side would you prefer?"

Elsie thinks for a moment. She doesn't really care about being closer or farther away from the door. The window is on the opposite wall from the bed so that doesn't matter. Each side of the bed has a small nightstand and lamp so that is not part of the equation. And then, it hits her like a bolt of lightning emerging from the darkest thundercloud.

"The left side of the bed, please," she announces with such certainty and clarity that it takes Charles a moment to register her words.

"Very well, though may I ask why you are suddenly so adamant on having the left side?"

A blush infuses her cheeks and a warmth spreads through her entire body. "I sleep on my right side," she explains, as if that is the most logical answer and should explain everything in perfect detail.

"And," he prompts, still not following her train of thought.

She wraps her arms around him, doesn't want him to see her face as she explains herself. She rests her head against his chest, over his heart. "I want the left side of the bed. I sleep on my right side. I had rather hoped … had always envisioned … snuggling into my husband's side, his left side." She pats his chest, over his heart. "I want to fall asleep each night listening to the beating of your heart, knowing that it belongs to me and mine to you."

Charles brings her hand to his lips for a soft kiss across her knuckles. He is so very touched by her honesty and the sentiment behind her decision. "I suppose we shall have to compromise, then, my dear. I had rather hoped we could share the middle of the bed, so here is my proposal. You take the left of the middle. I'll take the right of the middle. And together, we'll sleep like babes, snuggled together."

"I married a brilliant man today," she says, looking up into his face and seeing nothing but adoration there in his eyes.

He surprises her by suddenly lifting her into his arms in the bridal hold and walks the few paces to their bed. "I hope, though, that we won't be bound to our respective sides," he says rather boldly. "It is a nice, large bed …"

"Yes … with lots of room to move about," she laughs, running her nails down the back of his neck and causing him to shudder.

He places her gently on the bed and hovers over her. Her arms around his neck are preventing him from moving too far away. "I never said anything about activities before we retire for the night, only that I prefer to _**sleep **_on the left side, love." She gives him a seductive smile and runs her hands through his hair as she pulls him down to her for the first of many heated kisses and touches.

Later, as they lay sated in their marriage bed, Elsie snuggles against his side, her ear pressed to his chest and listening to the pounding of his heart. "This is a dream come true, Charles Carson. Thank you."

He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it. "You are my dream come true, Elsie Carson, and the best part of my life is ahead of me with you by my side … left, right, or middle … but always in my heart."

**A/N:** They say that if you do something for 30 days straight, you will form a new habit. Well, I don't know about a habit, but my muse seems happy, and she wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this. I am going to keep this "story" as a place to post future drabbles. I hope you guys won't mind getting the random alert for a new drabble from time to time. As always, thanks for your support and reviews. They mean the world to me.


	32. Embarrassed

**Embarrassed**

**A/N:** Written for Monajo7 who asked for a ficlet surrounding the word: embarrassed. Hope you'll enjoy!

** C&amp;E&amp;C&amp;E&amp;C&amp;E&amp;C&amp;E**

"Elsie," he said, popping his head into her sitting room unannounced. "I need to go into the village for a few things, but I shouldn't be long," he added quickly. "Would you like me to get anything for you while I'm there?"

She turned in her swivel chair and smiled softly at him. "What on earth could you need so desperately that you'd venture out in this weather? It's been pouring rain all morning and looks like it will carry on into the evening. Can't the errand wait until tomorrow?"

"No, I'm afraid it can't. Tomorrow, I will be busy with last minute preparations for our wedding … in case you've forgotten that it's the day after tomorrow," he said with a little gleam in his eyes.

"I would forget my own name before I could ever forget that date, Mr. Car … Charles. Besides, if I didn't remember, I'm sure Beryl would remind me. She's already asked me a half dozen times if I'm nervous, if I'm packed for the honeymoon, and all sorts of other questions you'd deem rude and inappropriate," she teased as his cheeks suddenly turned a little pink.

"Yes, well … I will leave you to deal with Mrs. Patmore. Thankfully, even Thomas is keeping a civil tongue and refraining from suggestive comments or questions. I'm sure it won't last long, but I'm enjoying the lull while it lasts." He stepped into her sitting room and crossed to her side, placing his warm palm against her back as he leaned down to press his lips to her cheek. "I won't be long. I promise."

"See that you aren't, though I wish you'd wait. Surely, whatever it is can't be important enough to catch a nasty chill."

"Believe me when I tell you that if I don't make this errand today, I won't find any peace of mind."

Elsie reached out and took his hands in hers, giving them a squeeze and refusing to let him leave. "Now, you've got me worried, and I won't let you leave until you tell me what this all important errand is all about … and none of your beating around the bush, please."

Charles allowed her to lead him over to the settee, which he realized in hindsight, had been his second mistake. His first, he assumed, had been in stepping fully into her office and closing the door behind him. But, there was nothing to be done at this point. Elsie Hughes would never let him leave without hearing some story, truth or a plausible lie … either way, she would eventually learn the truth.

"Really, Elsie, in the time it takes me to explain it, I could be halfway back from the village with my purchase in hand. Please, I'll explain it later. You shouldn't concern yourself …"

"Charles Carson! You are to be my husband in two days. I would like to think that if something concerns you to the point of walking all the way to the village in a rainstorm, and it won't let you see any peace until it's been seen to, then it very well is and should be my concern."

"You're making this a bigger problem than it is, love. I swear it. I only stopped in to tell you where I was going so you wouldn't worry … something I thought you'd appreciate. We've always kept each other informed when we were leaving the house or returning."

"We have, and I appreciate you letting me know you were going out. I would have done the same thing. The difference is that something is bothering you and you won't tell me what it is. That's what's worrying me, Charles." Her voice was softer than usual, more pleading in her desire to know, to understand his motives.

Charles searched her face and saw that she was genuinely worried about him, about this stupid errand. HE knew, in that moment, that he couldn't leave without telling her the absolute truth. If she laughed at him, then so be it. He would deal with those emotions later. For now, though his only concern was alleviating her fears. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lap and he started down at their joined hands. "I was … I am … embarrassed."

Elsie's brows furrowed as his softly spoken word registered in her mind. "Did you say embarrassed?" When he nodded his head, she pressed on. "What in heaven's name do you have to be embarrassed about, and what's that got to do with the trip to the village?"

Still unable to look into her eyes, he spoke softly as he continued to stare at their joined hands. "I needed to buy a few things before the wedding, and I didn't want you to know. Well, not yet anyway. I'm sure you'd have found out eventually."

"Things? What … surely you don't mean … _those_ things," she asked with a soft gasp! Her cheeks flushed as her mind began to conjure images of Charles going into the shop and asking for sheaths.

It took a moment for Charles's thoughts to catch up with Elsie's. When they did, he began to huff and bluster, assuring her that was NOT his purpose for visiting the village. "Unless … that is to say … should I … is there … a need?" he asked, his eyebrows raised higher than Elsie had ever seen.

Her eyes shot up to his before she burst into a fit of laughter. "No, Charles. That is no need for that. I'm well past the age of childbirth," she assured him. "I am sorry for jumping to that conclusion, but what else could make you so embarrassed?"

He mumbled something beneath his breath, thinking that this really had been the most embarrassing few minutes of his life.

"What was that? I didn't understand. It sounded like you said something about … underpants."

He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. His secret was finally out, though he did not feel a weight being lifted from his chest. Instead, he felt even worse now knowing that she knew. "Yes, that's what I said." He dared to look into her eyes and was pleased to find her not laughing at him, only wearing a quizzical expression.

"So, you were going into the village, on a day like today, to buy new undergarments? And what's worse … you were ashamed to tell me? Why?"

"I've … well, I've not bought any new ones in quite a while. I started packing for our honeymoon and realized the state of some of my things. I should have replaced them long ago. I didn't want you to think … well, I suppose you'll see me in those things, or at least I assume you will … at some point. Mind you, I'm not pressing you for … "

She silenced him with a finger to his lips, followed by her own soft lips caressing his in a tender kiss. "Charles Carson, you daft man. I love you!"

"I love you, too. You're not angry at me?"

"No! I'm not angry. A little surprised, but not angry. You do know that I darn your socks for you, don't you? I don't let the maids do your mending, love. I haven't for years. And whether or not you buy new things today, next week, or next year, I'm not marrying you for your clothes. I'm marrying you because I love the man inside those clothes … brand new, tattered, or somewhere in between."

"But, I overheard you and Mrs. Patmore talking about your new things."

"You did, but that's not quite the same thing, love. A woman wants to look alluring, desirable, even enticing on her wedding night, so the usual, practical undergarments won't exactly suffice. Something lacy and frilly, soft and flowing … not the sort of attire one would associate with everyday wear around here, wouldn't you agree?"

Charles cleared his throat as images of Elsie flashed through his mind. "Yes, umm, yes quite right."

"So, sweetheart, you have no reason to feel embarrassed about buying new things. See, if you'd only told me from the start, I could have saved you a lot of time and energy … energy better spent cuddling with me instead of trudging all the way to the village for pants which will only end up on the bedroom floor," she added with a sassy tone to her voice.

"Elsie Hughes! I cannot believe you just said that to me," he said, quite flabbergasted.

"Truth is truth, Charles Carson! Unless of course, you're planning to spend all of our time in a museum or visiting some monument while we're in London for our honeymoon. In which case, I shall have to rethink packing that special nightgown. No sense in taking up space in the luggage."

"Don't you dare leave that behind," he teased, waggling his eyebrows at her. "I'll make you a deal. I'll promise to wait to buy new pants when we return from London if you'll promise to pack your pretty new nightgown and model it for me."

Elsie snuggled into his side and slipped her hand inside his coat and around his middle. "Mr. Carson, you have yourself a deal." Her lips grazed against the side of his neck softly. "And for the record, I hope that nightgown enjoys keeping your pants company on that bedroom floor."


End file.
